The Extent of Denial
by kk-twin
Summary: Set in the summer and during a break from playing for titles. Everyone will be spending more time together without a Goban to keep them apart. Hikaru and Akira are beginning to see each other as more than just friends, but they're the last to realize it!
1. Disclaimer

Naturally I did not create these wonderful characters. Hikaru no Go and all characters belong to Yumi Hota and Takeshi Obata. I only wish that I had created them. ;) I am not the least bit educated in Go, so please forgive me for not writing games in detail and for avoiding Go altogether in many cases! Thanks for reading! This disclaimer applies to all chapters – yes, the entire story.

Characters may be slightly OOC, but I've tried to remain as true to their personalities as possible. Based off of the anime version of Hikaru no Go, for the most part, but that doesn't necessarily mean it will faithfully follow every aspect. After all, I don't want to attempt to write the show itself – that's already been done, and amazingly well! I have not had the opportunity to read the entirety of the manga, so while this fic takes place after the TV show ends, it proceeds as if the manga universe did not exist. Please forgive me for any inaccuracies.

* * *

Whoa, seems like this needs some additions! Okay, then, here we go. I do not claim that this fic is accurate about Go, life in Japan, customs in Japan or even reality in any way, shape or form! (Aside from some of that relationship torment, that is.) I'm writing it for fun, and I would hope people would be reading it for fun.

I have done my best not to mangle the Hikaru no Go universe. Please just enjoy the fic for what it is – I can't capture everything in it!


	2. You Need To Get Out More, Touya!

Hikaru paused as he was about to step out the door to go to the park. The phone was ringing. And no one else was home to answer it.

Heaving a sigh, he darted inside and slammed the door behind him, skidding around the corner in an effort to reach the phone before the caller gave up. It might be his mother calling, and she always become frantic if he didn't answer, even though she knew he hated being indoors most of the time.

He grabbed the phone off of the kitchen wall, juggling the receiver as he nearly dropped it twice, and managed to push it up to his ear, half-tangled in the cord. "Hello??" he answered breathlessly.

There was a long pause on the other end, and then a familiar voice said, "Shindou?" somewhat hesitantly.

Hikaru sighed, flopping into a chair at the kitchen table. Touya. Touya _never_ called his house. "Yeah, what's up?"

There was silent disapproval at his casual language before Touya responded. "Where _are_ you?"

Hikaru arched his brows in surprise. Was that a slightly accusatory tone? Was that _attitude_ from Touya Akira? He hadn't even made any stupid moves this time!

"Err…home? Where do you think?"

"But you always come _here_ on Saturdays!" Touya burst out.

Hikaru leaned back in the chair and rolled his eyes, twining the cord around his hand. So _that's_ what this was about. Touya was angry that he wasn't going to spend the day at the Go salon as usual.

"Well, I have plans today," he muttered somewhat defensively.

"Plans? What plans? What other plans could there be? Shindou, you know how important it is to keep _playing_! You need to hone your skills if you're ever going to attain a title! Your responsibility as a ranking player in the world of Go—" Touya was gathering strength, working up to a spectacular rant.

"Oh for the love of god, Touya! Everything cannot be Go! There are some days that I just need a break!" Hikaru winced at how sharp his tone was, but it was too late to soften it now.

Touya was silent for a long moment. "Where are you going?" the other boy asked quietly. Almost dejectedly.

Hikaru had a pang of remorse. Poor Touya had nothing better to do than plan Go all day every day at his father's salon. He was Touya's only friend, but even so, when they were together, it was always Go, Go, Go.

He straightened suddenly as he had a mini-epiphany – unfortunately leaning back too far in the chair and falling over. As he crashed to the floor, the phone went skittering off, banging into the base of the counter, and he barely missed slamming his head into the tile.

He lay there for a moment, trying to get the wind back that had been knocked out of him, and faintly heard Touya's voice from the phone. He struggled to crawl over to it and picked the receiver up again, shaking his head.

"…aru? Hikaru!!" Touya sounded frantic.

"Uhh…ouch, dammit…I'm right here, Touya, I just fell over."

There was a sigh of relief. "You see what happens, Shindou? You probably did something silly like leaning back in the chair, didn't you?"

He wasn't going to dignify that question with a response. "So…my friends and I are going to an arcade this afternoon to play some video games, and they have a pool table there, too. It's just going to be Waya and Isumi, so…you wanna go?"

"W-what?" Touya came back with, sounding as if Hikaru had asked him to set fire to a Go board.

"Do you want to go? I mean, I know it's probably not something you're used to doing, but I think you need to forget about Go for five minutes, too."

Touya was silent for a long moment. "I…I don't know, Hikaru. I've never really…I mean, I don't 'go out' and do things like that."

Hikaru rolled his eyes again, slowly getting up off of the floor and righting the chair that had spilled him. He was going to have some bruises. "I _know_, so that's why you need to. Come on, you can make sure I don't stay out too late, right? Just agree to something for once without having to analyze every possible strategy and outcome, Touya!"

Hikaru's eyes darted around the room as he listened to every nuance of Touya's response, trying to read the other boy's mind and outmaneuver him. Practically impossible with Touya Akira. He wasn't stupid himself, but Touya was brilliant. And…stiff. And way too grown up for his own good.

"I _suppose_ it wouldn't hurt to do it just once." Touya almost sounded suspicious, as if Hikaru had some hidden trap laid for him.

Hikaru smiled as he paced. "Great! I just got my car back from the shop, so I'll pick you up at 5:00. Waya and Isumi will meet us at the arcade. Cool?"

"Uh…yes. 'Cool'." Touya sounded as if he was a foreigner trying to learn a new language.

Hikaru laughed. "Okay, see you then!" He hung up the receiver, not waiting for Touya to reconsider or say anything else.

Rubbing his aching elbow, he recalled that Touya had been shouting 'Hikaru' when he thought Hikaru had been seriously injured. Trying to get his attention? Or did Touya not even realize?

He shook his head and ran upstairs to make himself more presentable. He couldn't very well face Touya Akira all disheveled. Touya was critical enough as it was!

* * *

Akira fidgeted in his living room, peeking through the wooden blinds every five seconds to see if Shindou had arrived. He would rather not have the other boy come in to mingle with his parents, even though they'd already met Shindou. 

Fortunately his father was in his study analyzing the last game he had played, and his mother was doing the laundry, which kept her in the back of the house. He was blessedly alone for the time being.

The sound of an engine from outside made him peek again, and he saw a vehicle pull up. It had to be Shindou. Trying to calm the near-panic racketing through his chest, he carefully let himself out, locking the door behind him. He tried to walk at a normal pace across the grass towards Shindou's ridiculously sporty yellow car. When had the other boy purchased a car, anyway?

The tinted window rolled down and there was Shindou's silly face, grinning away at him. The other boy's bleached bangs were blown by the wind, but the rest of his hair was held back in part by a pair of sunglasses perched atop his head.

"Yo, Touya! Jump on in!" Shindou's eyes scanned his body, brows slowly drawing down. "Hey, can't you ever dress _down_?"

Akira stiffened, moving around to get in on the passenger side. "I _do_ have an image to uphold. Besides, I dislike the movement of casual clothing, and the way it hangs. It feels…unclean."

Shindou had put his sunglasses back on, and turned to regard Akira with an arched brow. "If you say so. Anyway, we're gonna have fun, so un-stick yourself!"

"I—" he began indignantly.

Shindou turned away from him, putting the car in gear, and slipped out of the driveway like a fish. Within half a second, they were racing down the road.

Akira gripped the seat like a lifeline. "Shindou! Slow _down_!"

Shindou tipped a swift, dazzling smile at him, one arm casually resting up on the door of the vehicle, then turned his face back towards the road.

Akira scowled at this apparent disregard for his opinion, and not to mention safety, but as the wind whipped through his hair, he slowly started to relax against his will.

He glanced at Shindou out of the corner of his eye. The other pro was dressed in something Akira had never seen before – a long-sleeved fishnet shirt, with a red tank top underneath it. Red, not yellow? Shocking! He had never thought he'd see the day. Shindou was also wearing a pair of ripped up jeans.

Akira grimaced. The other boy's fashion sense was still atrocious. But as they drove on in silence, he found himself grudgingly admitting that he had always thought that Shindou Hikaru was…cool. Not that he'd _ever_ admit any such thing out loud, but privately he could.

"Automatic?" he asked quietly as he glanced at the shifter.

"What?" Shindou asked loudly, leaning slightly towards him, obviously unable to hear him over the wind.

Akira leaned over to speak into Shindou's ear, the boy's bleached bangs brushing his cheek. The other pro's hair smelled nice. It annoyed him. Shindou _would_ smell pretty. "Automatic?"

Shindou leaned away again, nodding. "Yeah, I can't drive stick!"

"What make and model?" he yelled over the wind. Yelling did not come naturally to him.

"Toyota Spyder!" Shindou sang, grinning at the road ahead of him.

Juvenile. But Akira found himself smiling against his will. Shindou loved life, and seemed to find joy in the smallest of things.

The other pro reached up to his visor and pulled a cd out of one of its pockets, slipping it into the player.

Akira gritted his teeth, expecting something grating, but was pleasantly surprised to hear classical music issue forth from the speakers. It was even at a sane volume.

Shindou laughed, as if he could read Akira's mind. "Yeah, you were thinking I'd blast you with Asian Kung-Fu, weren't you, Touya?"

Touya smirked. "Well, the thought had crossed my mind." Most of the music Shindou listened to gave him a headache. "So you enjoy classical music?"

The other boy laughed again, shaking his head vehemently in the negative.

But then…had Shindou purchased the music just for him? Listening to music he most definitely disliked just for Akira? Somehow he hadn't thought Shindou was capable of such consideration. It made him doubt his assessment of the other boy up to this point. Had Shindou grown up just a bit?

Akira frowned out the window, staring at the clubs and shops they passed, deep in thought.

Before he knew it, Shindou was putting the windows up and they were pulling into the parking lot of the arcade. There was a club adjacent to the arcade, the music clearly audible outside. Too many people were loitering in the parking lot and out front, making Akira's lip curl and his anxiety climb.

But Shindou leapt right out of the car and came around to his side, waiting on him, hands on his hips. Were those silver bracelets that the other pro was wearing?

It was embarrassing, to say the least. He watched everyone watching Shindou for a moment, surprised to find that the other boy drew everyone's interest in the same way that Akira's was drawn, then forced himself reluctantly out of the car, blushing at the attention.

Shindou sat there grinning at him for a moment from behind his shades, and Akira frowned up at the other boy. "Take off those sunglasses – you won't need them in the arcade."

"Yeah, yeah…" Shindou dismissed, taking them off and flipping them neatly so that they were folded and hanging from the front of his fishnet shirt.

Shindou started to walk and Akira almost choked when he noticed how scandalous the ripped jeans were, now that he could actually see them. There were wide, gaping tears in the fabric, seemingly strategically placed to show the most without actually revealing anything. The worst of it was that there was a tear on each side just below the seat of the pants, exposing the curve of Shindou's backside at random moments as he walked.

"Oh my _god_, Shindou!" he exclaimed under his breath, glancing sharply away. Could he really bear being seen with someone that was dressed like this??

"Eh?" Shindou asked, half-turning with that innocent, beaming look.

"Never mind…just…just go. I'm following you." For some unknown reason! His logic was short-circuiting at the very notion that he would follow someone like Shindou anywhere, much less dressed like that.

Akira did his best to ignore the people outside of the club as they scanned he and Shindou repeatedly, but the other boy seemed completely unfazed. He kept his gaze down, locked on the other pro's chunky little black boots.

As they entered the arcade, Akira was not only assaulted with video game noise, but also the music of a jukebox blasting horrid rock music somewhere, as well. Lasers…explosions…bad music. He nearly turned around and left again, but Shindou's arm snaked back and grabbed his sleeve, anchoring him as if the other pro sensed that he was about to bolt.

"I see them! Come on, Touya." Shindou released him and trotted forward, weaving around people and pool tables towards his friends.

Touya sighed through clenched teeth and hurried to follow Shindou, wondering why he'd come. He hated the music…he _really_ hated the music. And there were _way_ too many people.

Waya and Isumi were focusing intently on some sort of fighting game. Shindou ran up behind them, slinging an arm around the neck of each, and immediately started crowing, "Fatal strike, fatal strike!"

Waya shrugged him off. "Lay off, Hikaru, I was just about to nail Isumi!! Now you've messed me up!"

Hikaru jumped up and down a couple times, hanging on Isumi. "Get him, get him, get him!"

Akira shifted from foot to foot, uncertain what to do now that Shindou had attached himself to his _friends_ as if they were some sort of homing beacon to him.

He glanced at Waya and Isumi's clothing, then at his own. They looked clubby and he looked…well, like himself. He _had_ attempted to dress down. He'd spent hours trying things on, trying to ascertain what looked _normal_ to them. He'd settled on a pair of black slacks and a button-down, long-sleeved green shirt. He _couldn't_ dress like they did.

A sudden smack and string of curses brought his head up suddenly. Waya had slammed a fist down on the game pad. Apparently the game had ended, and Waya was the loser.

"Dammit, I almost had him!" Waya exclaimed, glaring at Shindou.

"Come ooonnn, Waya, you know Isumi has a better grasp of tactics than you do!" Shindou crooned, smiling in a way that did nothing to soothe Waya's temper.

"You little bastard!" Waya barked, chasing Shindou around Isumi.

"Help, help, help! Waya is killing me!"

Akira glanced around, clearing his throat.

As if it was a signal, Shindou veered towards him and ducked behind him, hands rising to grip his shoulders from behind. "Ha, try to get past Touya!" Shindou crowed triumphantly.

Akira cringed at the volume and the manhandling of his person, but tolerated it with barely concealed discomfort.

Waya came to a screeching halt as he saw Akira. "Hikaru…you brought Touya?"

Akira tensed, sensing Waya's vague dislike of him manifesting itself once again.

"Sure, why not?" Shindou replied brightly, voice too close to Akira's ear.

Isumi was looking now, too. "Waya…"

Waya put one hand on his hip, tilting his head. "But Hikaru…isn't he your rival?"

"Well, yeah, but we're friends, and he needs to do something besides play Go."

Akira held back a wince. Great, tell them what they already know.

"I like playing Go," Akira ground out.

"Of course you do," Shindou murmured, lightly squeezing his shoulders, "but you have to get away sometimes, Touya."

Waya signed and threw back his head, as if he couldn't imagine a bigger drag on his evening. "Hikaaaaruu…Touya isn't the type of person to have fun."

Akira felt his features drawing into a tense frown again and tried to control it. He hated how being around other people made him feel. Go was the only safe thing.

Shindou made a disapproving noise and came out of hiding. "Touya and I are going to play a game. Come on, Touya." Shindou tilted another one of those warm, open smiles at him, and he reluctantly followed.

"What are we going to play?" he made himself ask.

"The same thing Waya and Isumi were playing. I bet it's the easiest thing in here for you."

Fabulous. Just…wonderful.

He stared down at the buttons, then looked to see what Shindou was pressing.

"You just press the green button to join for two players, then select your character, and press the green button again. If you choose this character, pushing up on the control stick and hitting the red button twice will make him do his special move…"

Akira felt his eyes glazing over. There was no way he would be able to do this.

"…and if you choose this character, you have to press up, up, right, and then tap the green button twice and the red once, and that will make her break free from an opponent and go right into her finishing move…"

Akira surreptitiously raised his hand to cover his eyes, trying to ignore the beginnings of a headache stabbing behind his eyes.

"Ready?" Shindou chirped.

Akira dropped his hand, frowning into vibrant, expectant green eyes. He could see Waya and Isumi off to the side, and Waya was snickering and making low comments to Isumi, probably about him. "Yes."

"GO!" Shindou yelled, pounding away at the buttons.

Akira tried, he truly did, but in a matter of moments his character's life meter had dropped until it was in the red. Try as he might, he could not manage to get it to perform the correct moves or move fast enough to avoid Shindou's character. He felt his frustration mounting. In a sudden flurry of blades and explosions, it was over.

"What happened?" Akira demanded, scanning the screen and glancing at the buttons.

Shindou howled with joy and jumped several times again. "I won! That was my special! Fatal strike, fatal strike!"

"Stop _jumping_, Shindou!! You are not a rabbit, nor are you a child. You're 17 years old!" Akira clenched his fists, feeling almost angry.

Shindou paused in his victory posturing, turning to look at Akira with somber eyes. "I'm sorry, Touya. You're new at this, and that wasn't very nice of me."

Akira felt himself deflating, unable to be upset with Shindou for very long. "Fine, then."

"It'll be okay, let's play pool."

Akira felt like screaming and running away right that instant. He wasn't certain that he could endure any more 'fun'. But Shindou was behind him, pushing him towards a pool table.

"Wayaaa, Isumi, come on! Let's play!"

Waya threw up his hands and strutted over, Isumi trailing behind him like an echo or a part of him.

Akira wondered again exactly what the little beast had been saying about him.

Shindou began explaining this new game to him, and it made more sense than the video game, at least. This was a skill that could be learned. As far as he was concerned, the video game required no skill, but a great deal of speed and mindless instinct to master. It figured that Shindou would be good at it.

He wasn't being fair to Shindou, however…he was simply frustrated with this whole 'fun' nightmare. And he couldn't go home until the other boy _took_ him home.  
"'Kay?" Shindou ended with, smiling engagingly at Akira as if trying to coax a stubborn pet to eat.

"Hmm."

Shindou went first, taking a wide stance and leaning forward to take his shot. As he did so, the tears in the jeans gaped, and Akira was able to see the beginning of the curve of the other boy's bottom…

Akira flinched, looking away sharply. Why on earth would anyone wear something so…so _vulgar_? He stole another glance, unable to help himself, just as he would when passing an accident. A horrible accident.

It was terribly…fascinating, for some reason. And it made him feel anxious. Feeling his mouth go dry, he glanced away, unable to understand – and straight into Waya's eyes.

Waya arched a brow at him, giving him a peculiar, critical look. The obnoxious boy glanced at Hikaru's show, then back at Akira, both brows up now. Waya opened his mouth as if to say something, but was thankfully elbowed into silence by Isumi.

Shindou straightened, turning to look for Akira. "Did you watch? That wasn't so hard, right?"

"Oh yeah, he was watching," Waya muttered under his breath.

Isumi's eyes narrowed, and he slapped the other boy's side.

"Owww, Isumi! What the hell was that for??" Waya snapped, turning on his companion.

Shindou frowned a little, as if unable to comprehend the display, and waved Akira forward. "Come on, try it."

Akira picked up his pool cue and examined the table, trying to figure the appropriate angle for the most successful shot. He leaned forward, took aim…and completely missed.

Waya snickered, strutting around to the other side of the table. "Come on, Touya, it's _easy_. It doesn't require all of that high level thinking that you're so good at. Just hit the ball!" Waya sneered at him. "Go ahead and try that one again."

Touya narrowed his eyes at the wretched boy, taking aim more carefully. He managed to hit the white ball this time, but it rolled off to the side, not hitting any of the other balls.

Waya howled with laughter, slapping his leg. "I guess there's no help for it! I'll have to show you how it's done." Waya took his shot effortlessly, sinking the blue ball.

Isumi shook his head and came forward, quietly taking his turn. The balls scattered across the table and a yellow ball disappeared into the corner pocket.

Akira turned to look for Shindou – and found that a woman had cornered the other pro and was chatting animatedly at him.

"Shindou! Your turn!" Waya called.

Shindou seemed embarrassed to excuse himself to the woman, but came back to the table immediately. "Whew, that was rough," he murmured.

Akira blinked, wondering how to interpret that statement. Did the blond-banged boy want to stay with the woman? Or was he glad to escape?

Akira glanced away before Shindou began to bend over, not wanting to duplicate the earlier scene. He glanced surreptitiously at Waya, who seemed to be distracted by Isumi, then stole another look at Shindou. Thankfully he had a side view this time, and was able to see the intent look upon the other boy's face. Almost like his Go face, but less focused.

Shindou took his shot, then moved around the table to Akira, smiling brightly. "See? Things are getting better already. Come on, let's go get something to drink."

Akira started to follow Shindou around the table, opening his mouth to comment, maybe even to agree, but suddenly something hit him in the stomach, knocking all the breath out of him. He sank to the floor, dazed.

Vaguely, he heard Waya say, "Oops! I didn't see him there."

When he had come back to his senses, he was on the floor, almost in Shindou's arms. The other boy was shaking him gently. "Hey, are you alright? Waya accidentally hit you when he was taking his shot." Green eyes urgently searched his face, as if checking to make certain that he was still conscious and retained some brain function.

Akira stared mutely, certain that he had never seen Shindou this close before. The green of his irises was brilliant, flecked with little bits of jade color. Without a stupid look on his face…Shindou was…pretty. That earnest look…

"Touya Akira!" Shindou exclaimed, holding Akira closer.

Seeing that the other pro was close to tears, he shook his head. "I'm…okay."

Waya was trying to stifle laughter while Isumi chastised him.

Shindou turned a little to look at Waya. "Waya, stop it! He could have been really hurt for all you know!" Shindou actually sounded angry, his voice as stern as Akira had ever heard it.

The pounding music combined with the noise of humanity and video games crammed into too small space was making him nauseous. No doubt the blow to his stomach was no small part of his nausea. Feeling weak, he leaned into Shindou just a little. For some reason, he felt as if the other boy was the safest thing here, maybe even slightly reliable.

Shindou's arms tightened around him in response. "Come on, we'll take you home. I'm very sorry that you've had such a bad time, Touya."


	3. Apologies, Altercations & More Apologies

Hikaru helped Touya into the car, feeling truly wretched. He had only wanted to get Touya to enjoy something other than Go, for once. If anything, this had just made the other boy more reluctant to do anything _but_ Go.

Going around to his side, he let himself in and just sat there in the silence with Touya, going over the evening in his head.

"Touya…"

The other boy glanced at him, looking wary.

"I'm…I'm so sorry. I really thought you might have fun."

Touya seemed to bite back some remark, settling for a nod.

"And I'm sorry that Waya wasn't being very nice to you. I'm sorry that I made you do something you really hated, but I…I just want you to know that I was glad you were here."

Aqua eyes examined him in the near darkness, softening slightly. "I enjoyed spending time with you, too. Maybe sometime we can go somewhere a little…quieter."

"Sure. Sure, anything. I'd like that." Hikaru glanced down at his hand clenching the gearshift and started the car, putting the windows down again.

He drove back slowly, not really wanting to leave Touya's company just yet. Touya really was his best friend.

There had to be a way for the two of them to actually do something that both would enjoy. Perhaps he could try going to a museum with Touya. Maybe the beach would be something the other pro would enjoy – but at night. Getting an idea, he glanced at Touya.

"You…you wanna stop by the beach? Just for a minute. It's not that far away, and it's quiet and there won't be anyone there. You…you wanna?"

Touya favored him with a measuring look. "Are you certain that there won't be any more of your friends there?" The other boy's tone was slightly acidic.

"Yeah…no other friends."

"Very well. I doubt I can embarrass myself any further, anyway."

Hikaru remained silent, gnawing on the inside of his lip. He'd done something 'stupid' again. He just didn't think things through. Touya had told him that a million times when they were playing Go, and even his mother had said it to him. Like that time he did the laundry and mixed in a bunch of his new t-shirts, dying everything yellow…

He never read instructions and he never thought things through. He did everything by instinct. When he was with Akira, especially, he needed to think.

Perhaps they could actually talk at the beach…about something other than Go.

As he drove, light and shadow flickered through the car. He watched from the corner of his eye as moonlight gilded Touya, only to be swept away a moment later by the shadows coursing over the two of them. Touya's longish hair flared and danced in the wind, but the other pro seemed unaffected by it all, continuing to stare out the window as if he were looking for something.

The darkness all around them belonged to a night that was silvery, mysterious…special. Hikaru couldn't remember ever feeling like this when he was out with his friends, or even Akari, someone he'd known all his life. It trembled slightly within him, like unbroken surface tension.

Who was this person beside him? They knew each other's bad habits, superficial preferences, mood swings and the like, but he had no idea of the finer points that made Touya…well, Touya. He had no idea what Touya was thinking most of the time, if ever. The thought pained him slightly, as if he were losing something, or as if something were slipping away from him.

Hikaru slowed the car and pulled off of the road. "We're here," he murmured, finding it difficult to break the silence.

"It has been years since I've been to the beach," Touya said quietly, as if in reply.

Hikaru glanced at him, startled, but the other boy was already getting out of the car. He followed suit, mind on the sound of the breakers as he slammed his door shut and turned to find Touya.

Touya was silhouetted by the moon, waiting for him.

He ran up the dune, not wanting to keep the other pro waiting. "Want to walk for a while? There are some rocks…" Hikaru trailed off, pointing down the beach.

Touya nodded, starting down onto the beach.

As he drew even with the other boy, Touya glanced at him, eyes very serious. "You're much quieter without your friends, Shindou. Much calmer."

Hikaru shrugged, looking up at the gibbous moon. "Well, they're different people. And there is more than just that one side to me."

"Hnn. Refreshing."

He gave Touya a sharp look. "You don't like who I am? Is that it?"

Touya sighed. "It isn't that, Shindou. It just seems a little forced, sometimes. A little hyperactive."

"Well sometimes you seem a little _stiff_. You're kinda forced yourself, you know. How is it that you're the same age as I am, yet you act like you're 30? You know so many adult things, but nothing of how to be young or enjoy yourself."

As they angled towards the rocks, Touya glared at him. "My father has high expectations and great plans for me. There's no time for playing. Besides, what is the point of playing? From what I saw tonight, it's only a painful waste of time."

Hikaru felt the warmth of anger beginning, but tamped it down. "Your father, yes. If you actually _played_ more often, you'd enjoy it! But if you don't know anything about how to play, of course you'll hate it. Besides, you hate anything that makes you uncomfortable or that can't be predicted! You hate anything you can't plan for, or learn how to do from reading a book." He stopped when he realized that Touya had stopped walking.

Touya stood with his head down, fists clenched. "What _about_ my father? And if you don't like me, Shindou, just _say_ so. I don't want your pity, and I don't want pity to drive you to torment me with your moro-- your friends!"

Hikaru blinked a few times, then scowled. "Your father needs to lay off of you! You're a kid! Just a kid, even if you're a brilliant one. I _do_ like you, Touya. That's the whole point of having fun together. You don't do it with people you don't like. And what was that about my friends? What were you going to call them?"

Touya looked up, aqua eyes flashing. "How can you claim that you like me?"

Hikaru shrugged. "I just _do_. You can be rude and arrogant, and you can be a real pain, but I just like you."

The other boy tensed further, eyes narrowing. "There's nothing wrong with my father's expectations. I would hate to be like you, without any goals in life. I refuse to cast aside my goals by using the excuse that I'm just a teenager." Touya's tone was as cold as ice.

Hikaru felt hurt burning in his chest. "Damn you, Touya! Why do you have to act like this! It seems that _you're_ the one that doesn't like _me_. My goal in life is to reach the Hand of God – oh yes, and to be _happy_. Do you have a problem with that? Is that not enough to aspire to?"

Touya seemed taken aback, just standing there staring at him with wide eyes.

"Do you – do you really feel that way?" Hikaru whispered, tears burning his eyes and making his image of Touya blur beyond recognition.

"Shin…Shindou…" Touya took a step forward, reaching out his hand slightly as if uncertain of what to do. Looking apologetic.

Hikaru turned away. Why did it hurt so much? Why did the idea that Touya might hate him or the way he lived cut so deeply into his heart?

A tentative hand touched him between the shoulder blades. "Shindou…I apologize. I was just…angry about what you said."

He tried to force the tears back. It was embarrassing to cry in front of the perfect, emotionless Touya Akira. One more thing that the other boy could mock him for…weakness, inability to control his emotions.

A hand closed around his wrist, pulling him around to face Touya. He tried to keep his face turned away, frantically wiping away the tears that had spilled loose.

"Shindou…I'm _sorry._ I was wrong to say that. I didn't mean it. Please…don't…don't cry—"

"I'm not crying!" he exclaimed violently, glaring at Touya through a haze of tears. The other boys eyes were gentle, pained. He couldn't recall ever getting a look like that from his friend before.

'Friend'. Who knew what _that_ meant anymore.

Touya was still holding his wrist. The moon illuminated the other boy brightly, making his nearly feline beauty all the more apparent.

Damned perfect Touya.

"Not even Waya has ever said anything like that to me, Touya. I can't believe that you would."

* * *

Akira winced. Being compared with Waya was one of the most insulting things he could think of, but it seemed he deserved it at this point. 

Shindou looked incredibly vulnerable and exposed, his pain written so clearly on his face that even without tears it would have been obvious to anyone. He was looking at Akira as if he were a puppy that had been kicked by the person it trusted most in the world.

What a horrible, heavy, _responsible_ feeling. He'd never been able to hurt anyone before. No one had ever cared that much about him. How could it be that Shindou was the one to give a damn?

He couldn't make himself let go of Shindou's wrist, not when the other boy looked as though he were considering drowning himself. He felt the urge to comfort this person standing before him, looking so crushed, but he didn't know how. All he knew was that seeing Shindou's pain was creating an answering pain in his chest.

"Shindou…why should my opinion matter this much to you?"

"Because you're supposed to be my best friend, you idiot!" the other boy snapped passionately. Shindou sniffed, glancing away again.

Touya looked down, and before he could think about it, he gave Shindou a quick, awkward hug. "Look, I apologize."

Shindou stared at him as if he'd become an alien. Then the blond-banged boy smiled faintly, as if Akira had said something kind to him.

Akira stared down at Shindou's boots, fidgeting. Desperate to leave. Suddenly, it seemed very strange that they should be alone at the beach at night together. It made him want to go back home immediately.

As if Akira had said something, Shindou said, "Okay…okay, we'll go," and turned back towards the car.

Akira signed, rubbing his face with one hand as he followed Shindou. He was tired, frustrated and uncomfortable. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this unpleasant, and yet…if he were given the choice, he'd still want to go out with Shindou tonight. No matter how unpleasant it had been, being with Shindou was worth it.

"We _are_ best friends, Shindou," Akira said quietly.

It seemed the other boy made some noise, but didn't offer a verbal answer, merely struggling on.

Akira noticed the tears in the pants again and closed his eyes for a moment. Yes, he was definitely exhausted. He never knew how to feel or what to think when he was with Shindou.

Since they'd met, confusion had slowly become a way of life for Akira. The only time he knew what he was doing was when he was sitting in front of the Go board. And when Shindou was across from him, playing him, he knew what to do with Shindou. To beat him, he was there to beat him. But once the board was gone, he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

He had no idea what to do with Shindou Hikaru.

* * *

Hikaru absently ran the university entrance exam through his hands over and over again, tapping his foot against his desk in time to the music. His eyes stared vacantly ahead, but did not appear to see the computer screen in front of him. 

He was thinking deeply, but not about what was on the computer screen. He wasn't even thinking about the entrance exam, which his mother had been begging him to take all week.

Hikaru was thinking about Touya Akira. It was Wednesday, and he had yet to hear from or see the other pro. He had religiously been to the Go salon every day, but Touya was never there. He had gone to the Go Institute. Touya wasn't there. In fact, no one had seen him at all.

It was almost as if Touya were deliberately avoiding him. But why? Even though their Saturday evening activities had been a little strenuous, they had seemed to part on neutral, if not positive terms. The ride back had been quiet and tense, true, but Touya had thanked him and promised to do it again.

So why…? If things continued like this, he would have to go to the other boy's house. His life felt empty every day that he failed to see Touya, oddly enough. He missed Waya and Isumi, but he didn't feel incomplete without them. How sad. Incomplete without a daily game of Go! He was getting to be just as bad as Touya with the Go, if he wasn't there already! Oh, the _horror_.

Hikaru shook his head, glancing down at the much folded and slightly crumpled entrance exam in his hands. Toryuu University was only a couple of hours away, but it seemed…wrong. It seemed foreign that he should even consider trying to juggle school as well as his career. Besides, hadn't he just gotten free of school? He wasn't exactly eager about the thought of going back.

Touya wouldn't be going to a university, or any other school. He would be devoting all of his time to his Go career. He could just hear the other pro now. _"Shindou, don't you know that Go is more important than whatever silly thing you're studying for? Who am I supposed to play against?! Besides, what would you plan on doing with a degree in ? Would you abandon Go?"_ He could even picture the betrayed look in those aqua eyes, as if he were being accused of leaving _Touya_.

Hikaru shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. The last thing he needed was to hear one more thing about what Touya thought of his goals and his life. He crumpled the exam violently and threw it at his Gackt poster, not bothering to pick it up after it bounced off and rolled across the floor.

He would not be left behind or looked down upon by Touya. He would show the other boy that he was truly his rival, there until the end. "I'm not letting someone else catch you, Touya," Hikaru growled. "You're _my_ rival."

The thought that someone else might pass him by and catch Touya's eye, impressing the other pro, was beyond bearing. It made him angry and nauseous.

Yes, school was definitely out. He'd simply have to argue with his mother about it. He typically did whatever she wanted him to with his life, but not when it came to Go. That was _his_.

Hikaru tossed off his headphones, getting to his feet. One more time to the Go salon, just in case. It was only 2 P.M., and he knew that Touya had nothing better to do than hang out there…despite the fact that he had been conspicuously absent the last several days.

He pushed his yellow and black sneakers on, grabbed his wallet and ran down the stairs. Just as he reached the front door, his mother's voice rang out.

"Hikaru? Did you finish your paperwork?" She appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "After all, you've done nothing since school ended."

He bristled. "Mother, I've been studying GO. That's my career, though I know you don't understand. I'm not going to a university."

"But Hikaru! What about your future—"

Hikaru scowled, clenching his fists. "He's not going, so I'm not going! I need every ounce of concentration and wit that I have to keep up with him, mother! Go is my _life_! I don't need or want anything else, and what would I do with a degree? I don't _want_ it!" His voice had risen as he expressed his feelings.

His mother stared at him, looking disturbed. "Hikaru…I can only assume you mean Touya Akira. Have you ever thought that maybe he's simply too far above you…? What if you can't—"

"I _have_ to!" He cried, looking away from her. Her words struck something deep within him, aggravating the wound already inflicted by Touya last weekend. Something constricted in his chest.

"But…I've never seen you so unhappy. Maybe you should give Go up—"

"I'm not losing!" he yelled, turning towards the door to escape her. "I'm **_not_** losing!" He slammed the door behind him, pelting across the lawn and down the sidewalk before she could try to stop him again.

What she had said echoed the fears he'd had for years. The nightmares he used to have that he'd never catch up to Touya. Now that he _had_ caught up, it took everything he had simply to keep pace with the other boy. Without Go…there was nothing. No meaning at all.

If he could just play a game with Touya, everything would be fine.

He slowed down to a fast walk, glancing at the houses he passed. Everything was quiet, manicured and well maintained. It was sunny and beautiful out, a perfect summer day. He supposed he was fortunate, but somehow he felt anything but recently.

His normally upbeat, confident and energetic nature had begun dropping out on him at the strangest moments. Sometimes he felt…crushed. Helpless. Stupid. Usually when Touya Akira's aqua eyes were burning into him, measuring his worth, weighing every brain cell (or lack thereof), analyzing all of his faults, cataloguing his fashion faux pas. (Touya should talk!) He wanted to be everything that Touya expected him to be. He tried so hard.

It made him feel slightly desperate. Maybe more than slightly.

He stopped, realizing that he had already covered the distance to the Go salon. He slowly made his way into the salon, almost dragging his feet. As he lifted his head, he froze.

Touya was actually _there_, sitting alone at one of the tables with a cup of coffee and a palm pilot.

Hikaru felt the tightness in his chest ease, but then his throat seemed to close up on him. He began walking as swiftly as he could over to Touya's table, nearly tripping over himself and almost mowing down a small child that crossed his path. Oblivious, he bore down on the other boy, heart pounding.

Touya glanced up, as if sensing his approach, and stared at him for all of a heartbeat before getting up abruptly and making a beeline for the back room where only staff were allowed.

"Touya!" Hikaru cried, reaching out a hand as if that would stop the other pro.

Touya disappeared around the corner.

Hikaru ran to the back, making the same turn that Touya had, only to be confronted by a closed door that read 'staff only'. Just as he reached for the knob, he heard the click of a bolt being thrown. He froze, hand hovering a breath from the knob, and stared disbelievingly.

He had _not_ just been locked out! He contemplated yelling for Touya to open the door, or perhaps banging on the door with his fists until the other boy gave up and opened it, but realized that neither course of action would work on a Touya that did not want to see him.

Hikaru clenched his fists and turned away, feeling anger slowly building within him. He decided to leave before he did anything that he might regret or be embarrassed by later. To think…!

As he passed by the table Touya had been at, he saw the abandoned coffee cup and the palm pilot. Hikaru felt a smirk spread across his face as he reached for the palm pilot. As he looked at the screen, his smirk faded, replaced by a pained expression.

Touya had been reviewing their last game. He tapped the 'next' button over and over again, realizing that every game they had every played had been carefully recreated and saved in Touya's palm pilot.

Hikaru slipped it into his pocket, glaring in Touya's general direction. "Ha…if you want your toy back, you'll have to talk to me, Touya." As an afterthought, he picked up the coffee cup and drank the remaining liquid, grimacing at the lack of sugar. "That's _just_ like you! Creamer, but no sugar!! Mislead everyone into thinking that your coffee doesn't taste bitter and crappy, you bastard!"

A passing patron glanced at him, giving him a disturbed look, and he quietly put the coffee cup back down, skulking back towards the front door. The woman at the desk whose name he could never remember smiled at him.

"Not playing Akira today, Shindou-kun?"

Hikaru gave her a huge, fake grin. "He ran off to the back! I guess he had something he had to do. Maybe some other time!"

She blinked, looking vaguely confused. "Would you like me to give him a message?"

Hikaru grinned evilly. "Actually…yes. Tell him that I have 'it', if he asks about anything that he might have misplaced."

As he left the shop, he couldn't help but feel slightly vindicated. At least he'd gotten _something_ out of this trip.

But Touya was definitely avoiding him. He couldn't imagine what he'd done wrong. Was it because he had cried that night? Was it because of the _goals_ issue? Was his mother right? Was he so far _below_ the other pro that he didn't even warrant his friendship? His attention? A simple 'hello'?

"Dammit!!" Hikaru exclaimed loudly, turning to kick a newspaper stand. Again, people seemed to find his behavior strange, and went out of their way to avoid being too close to him. He slapped his hand to his face, groaning. "It's all your fault, Touya…you moron!"

He had to call Waya. Waya would make it all better. Waya usually brought alchohol when things got this bad. Hikaru couldn't remember the last time _he'd_ had an emergency like this, but he did recall that time several years ago when Waya was depressed about a fight with Isumi. True, it hadn't been _Hikaru's_ emergency, but Waya's pain became…well, everyone's pain.

He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket, hitting the speed dial number for Waya.


	4. Way Too Many Drinks!

"Man, Hikaru, what's up with you?" Waya was eyeing him warily.

He finished the last of his rum and coke before answering. "What do you mean, what's _up_ with me? Nothing is up with me. Life sucks, Waya."

"_That._ You, Shindou Hikaru, are usually bouncing off of the walls and generally high on life, sickening the rest of us that are actually normal people. To see you like this is just disturbing!"

"That's why I called you. At least Isumi is always around to cheer you up, but I don't have anyone but you, Waya."

"Aw, thanks," the other boy muttered, giving him a dark look.

"You know what I mean!" Hikaru snapped.

"Well, we _are_ at a bar. Make more friends."

Hikaru gave a disparaging glance around the dark, dingy room, not the least bit impressed with its patrons. "I don't _want_ those kinds of friends!"

Waya sat there quietly, just watching him.

Hikaru slipped the palm pilot out of his pocket, holding it carefully as he examined it. It was sleek, slim and shiny, rather like its owner. There were no identifying tags or stickers on it to say that it belonged to Touya.

What else was on the hard drive aside from those games? He began investigating random files, finding one with his phone number – suddenly Waya's hand entered his field of vision, reaching for the palm pilot.

"Hey!!" Hikaru exclaimed, hiding it against his chest and curling up slightly.

"I just wanted to see what you were doing! Is that yours?"

"No."

"Whose is it, then, and why do _you_ have it?" Waya was giving him the 'what have you done this time??' look.

"I can't say, but I need more alcohol. This is not working, Waya. You are _failing_ me!"

_2 hours later:_

"Noooo!" Hikaru howled, pulling against Waya.

"C,mon, 'Karu, you need decoration! Besides, we're in the springtime of our youth! Now is the time for such things!" Waya was pulling on Hikaru's arm and reeling. Together, they managed to stagger into the tattoo shop.

"You suck, Waya! SUCK!" Hikaru whined, stumbling against the counter.

"You're bitchin' and depressed out your head. I don't know what to do with this Hikaru. C'mon, suck it up."

Hikaru sighed as someone came out of the back, glancing back and forth between them. "Fine, I'll do it. This 's stupid."

"So are you. Go for it."

The tattoo artist put his hands on his hips. "So, which of you will it be? Or are you both getting tattoos?"

"Both," Waya assured the man.

"I'll take your friend back, and someone else will be out in a minute for you."

Hikaru followed the man to the back, focusing on not tripping, stumbling or crashing into anything.

"What do you want for your tattoo?"

He was staring at the floor, not really hearing the artist. "Stupid Akira…" he muttered. "Touya…Akira. He can…can kiss my ass."

"What's that? 'Akira'? So where should it go?"

"Yes, Akira…bastard!" he exclaimed. Hikaru lapsed into unintelligible muttering once more. "…dunno what his problem is…pain in the _ass_!"

The tattoo artist shrugged, shaking his head. "Yeah, probably. But okay, buddy, it's your body."

"He is…" Hikaru agreed, thinking the tattoo artist was in agreement with his opinion of Akira.

"You're going to have to take off your clothes, though."

"Suuuure….clothes…" Hikaru struggled out of his jeans, almost falling over and killing himself.

The tattoo artist sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "This is going to be a _long_ night. God help me. I never pegged you for getting something like that. I must be losing my touch."

* * *

Hikaru groaned into his pillow, feeling bad. _Very_ bad. Nauseous, with a pounding, raging headache. "The hell?" he mumbled, trying to sit up.

He winced and cursed at the immediate and throbbing pain in the vicinity of his bum. "What did--?? Waya!" He had only the vaguest of memories of anything after the bar.

Hikaru rolled over and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand, flipping it open and calling Waya. He waited patiently, holding it slightly away from his ear, but not so far that he couldn't hear it when his friend picked up.

"What?!" snarled a familiar voice from the other end.

"Geez, Waya, and you say _I'm_ bitchy! I want to ask you something."

"It's fuckin'…11:00 A.M., Hikaru! We didn't come back 'til late…mrph…" Waya trailed off, sounding as if he were going back to sleep.

"What…what happened after the bar? I really don't remember." Hikaru hated the tentative and cautious tone he felt compelled to use when Waya was like this.

"We got tats…don't you remember?"

"'Tats'?"

"Tattoos!! Damn, Hikaru…"

"Tattoos?? I got a tattoo??"

Waya sighed explosively. "Yes! At least, I hope you did, since you were back there so long with that guy. When you came out, your shirt was on backwards. I don't want to know what that means."

"What did I get?" Hikaru asked softly, afraid of the answer.

"How the hell should I know! You didn't tell me!"

"What did _you_ get?"

"I'm not telling! That's personal."

Hikaru laughed, kicking his feet into the bed. "Are you serious? It has to be worth seeing!"

"Whatever!" Waya growled. "Call me later at some reasonable time, you little punk bitch!"

Hikaru heard a click and pulled his cell away, looking at the screen in disbelief. Waya really _had_ hung up on him. He didn't envy Isumi his position as Waya's best friend.

Best friend. He and Touya were supposed to be best friends, but they weren't even on a first name basis. Hikaru let his hand fall, staring dispiritedly at the cell phone where it lay beside him on the bed.

He wanted to see Touya. He wanted to understand what was happening, what was in the other pro's mind. Even though Touya had been the one in the wrong, he wasn't sure he cared whether or not he received an apology anymore, so long as Touya was still his friend.

Well, there was nothing to be done about that at the moment, so he might as well go look at his tattoo.

He forced himself to get up and go to the bathroom, pulling out one of his mother's make-up mirrors from under his sink. (Hey, how was a boy supposed to see himself properly otherwise?)

Carefully peeling his jeans and underwear down and cursing vividly, he revealed a huge gauze patch on his right buttock. Feeling his eyes widen, he also pulled away the gauze, holding the mirror steady.

Hikaru stared mutely at the tattoo revealed on his backside, mouth hanging open for long moments. Then, "Oh, _fuck_. What the hell is wrong with me?!" He leaned against the sink, closing his eyes. "Thank god it's somewhere no one will _ever_ see it…well, at least not any time soon."

He finished peeling off his clothing and got into the shower, wincing and hissing as the warm water washed over his tattoo. Belatedly, he realized that he needed to check on Touya's palm pilot and make certain that it was still in one piece after last night, especially since he almost wasn't!

"Waya, you little bastard!" Hikaru muttered. Weren't friends supposed to look out for each other? Waya had failed him, allowing him to get a tattoo like _that_!

* * *

Akira laid his pen down, glancing at the clock. It was just past 4:00 on a Friday afternoon, and he was copying kifu out of one of his father's more advanced books.

He'd played a match yesterday with one of his father's friends, but it just hadn't been enough to capture his interest. He'd kept waiting for one of those insane and nonsensical moves that Shindou would have made, but naturally the man had never made one. Only Shindou played like that, determined green eyes shining and intense.

Shindou. He hadn't seen him for a week, mostly due to his own avoidance of the other boy. It wasn't that Shindou had done anything wrong. He just didn't feel able to face him after what he'd said, after having made the other pro cry like that.

But in truly typical Shindou-fashion, the bleach-banged boy had stolen his palm pilot, which would force a confrontation sooner or later. There were personal things on there that he'd rather the other boy not see, especially as some of them concerned him, and he had no doubt that Shindou would start looking soon.

The one thing that had no apparent reason or motive was that his coffee cup had been empty when he'd returned to his table. He couldn't _imagine_ Shindou doing something as bizarre as drinking his coffee, but what stranger would do such a thing? It disturbed him. What was the purpose? What would the point be in doing such a thing?

Akira glanced out of his open window, watching the breeze stir the curtains with slightly unfocused eyes. Perhaps he should call Shindou and apologize again so that he wouldn't have to avoid him anymore. It would be the correct thing to do. And then…perhaps he could spend a little time with the other boy, even if it was on one of those horrible outings.

He picked up the phone from its cradle on his desk and slowly dialed Shindou's cell number, which he had taken pains to memorize. Tensely, Akira waited, uncertain of what his reception would be. He was aware that his avoidance had likely made things worse. A click made him flinch, aware that Shindou had answered, but the line was silent for a long moment.

"….Touya…" a quiet, flat voice finally said.

Akira swallowed, his anxiety ratcheting up ten notches. "Ah…S-shindou…"

Silence.

"I…I wanted to say…"

"You mean there was something that you _didn't_ say that night?" Shindou growled.

Akira winced, clenching the phone in both of his cold hands. He _had_ to do this. "I apologize again, Shindou. I am aware that I said some very unkind and inappropriate things to you."

Another long pause, then, "That doesn't tell me anything about whether or not you _meant_ those things that you said, Touya. Your apology doesn't mean anything if you truly feel those things."

Akira bit his lip, feeling trapped. How was he to rectify this? What path would be successful in restoring things to normal? He had never seen this side of Shindou before. He would attempt to explain himself. "I was raised in a rather…motivated household, Shindou. By the standards of said household, those things would be accurate, but…you were raised differently, and…that's fine. People are supposed to be different, aren't they?"

Shindou sighed loudly. "Then why did you say what you did?"

"Because…I was angry that you were attacking my father. That you seemed to be disapproving of _my_ way of life."

"Well, I'm not. I was just worried about you. That's a lot of pressure. But I won't make that mistake again, ok? I won't involve myself anymore, I'll just stand back and let Touya Akira do his own thing. I won't offer my stupid opinions."

"Shindou! Don't be like that. I apologize for hurting your feelings. I was insensitive and hurtful. I'm not skilled at friendship, or interacting with other people. You have made that painfully clear to me over the years that we've known each other. It's so effortless for you. Sometimes I wish that I could be more like that."

Akira forced himself to release his death grip on the phone, using one hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. He had closed his eyes in order to focus even more on Shindou's voice.

"Who said you hurt my feelings?" Shindou muttered.

Akira knew that it would not be wise to pursue such a statement. "Well, I just meant that _if_ I did…I wanted to apologize. I was wrong. Stay just the way you are, Shindou. I like you…the way you are."

There was a faint noise from the other end. "Th-thank you…Touya…" Shindou's voice was soft and almost choked-sounding.

If he didn't know better, he'd say that Shindou Hikaru had been moved to tears, but…he was probably just misinterpreting things again.

"Of course…Shindou."

"Touya, do you want to – to go somewhere tonight? Waya and Isumi will be going, too."

Akira frowned, stifling a sigh. This could be his penance, he supposed. "I will consent to going somewhere with you. What time will you be by?"

"Great! How's 8:00 P.M. sound?" Shindou sounded as if he'd resumed normal Shindou operation – chirpy and energetic.

Akira smiled slightly, greatly relieved. His tactic had been successful. He and Shindou were friends again. The torment of this evening was worth that. "That's rather late, but I suppose that's fine."

"I'll bet you go to bed _way_ early, don't you, Touya!?" Shindou sounded very amused.

"Hmph, of course. My father likes to rise early and have the family break their fast together, but I'm certain that there won't be a problem with my missing it every once in a while."

"'Break their fast'?? Who _says_ that?" Shindou burst into laughter.

Akira pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning. "Shindou, stop taunting me over my proper way of speaking! I cannot help that I am civilized, unlike you!"

This only earned him more laughter. "See…see you…" Shindou gasped out between gales of laughter.

"Indeed," Akira replied, gently replacing the receiver in its cradle. "Shindou, you silly little fool."

Despite himself, Akira smiled.


	5. Strip Club?

Hikaru tapped out an impatient rhythm on his steering wheel as he waited in the driveway for Touya to emerge. He'd only arrived three minutes ago, but he could hardly bear to wait any longer.

Just then, Touya slipped out the front door. Hikaru's eyes scanned the other boy repeatedly, taking in clothing choice and body language. It almost seemed as though Touya were trying to avoid being seen by someone. The other pro wore a short-sleeved black silk shirt, and had actually managed to acquire jeans and a pair of low black boots. Apparently he had taken the clothing comments to heart!

Touya slipped into the car and turned to him for a moment, wearing a very serious and sincere look in place of his usual guarded expression. "I truly am sorry, Shindou," the other boy said softly, touching his hand very lightly and briefly where it rested on the gear shift.

Hikaru stared into those aqua eyes, feeling pinned and strange. When Touya's fingers had touched his hand, he'd felt a jolt of…_something_. There was a queer, light feeling in his chest, as if something had come loose, or was adrift. It was extremely unsettling. He took a deep breath, trying to unseat it.

"Thank you, Touya, I accept your apology." He smiled somewhat awkwardly, still feeling way too peculiar for his liking.

Touya smiled warmly at him, then went about buckling his seatbelt.

Hikaru stared for another moment, certain that he'd never received a smile quite like that from the other pro. Sort of…vulnerable, sort of soft. Touya hardly ever smiled to begin with, and when he did, they were usually quite superior and cool smiles.

He turned his mind to driving, trying not to focus on Touya.

"So, where are we going this time?" Touya asked him, glancing over curiously.

"It was Waya's pick, I warn you now."

"Shindou! Shindou, that gives me a doubly foreboding feeling."

"It's just a strip club," Hikaru replied casually, though he felt warmth creeping into his face as a blush began.

"What?" Touya sounded confused.

"A place where certain people take off their clothing. Depending on how much you want to pay, you may get more than just a look."

"**_WHAT!?_**" Touya exploded. "Shindou, that's _scandalous_! You are a terrible influence on me! Why would I want to see naked people?"

Hikaru couldn't help himself – he laughed. "Touya, I hate to tell you this, but _most_ people our age are interested in seeing 'naked people', as you put it. It will be an experience for you!"

Touya sounded as though he were hyperventilating. "It's not proper! Do you – do you do this _often_?" The other boy sounded horrified at the thought.

"Not all the time, but sometimes. We boys like to see naked girls, right?" Hikaru grinned, but Touya remained silent.

Hikaru glanced surreptitiously over to gauge the other pro's reaction, but Touya was stony-faced. Most likely from the shocking thought that they would soon be amongst naked girls. He managed to keep himself from laughing again, but just barely. He couldn't wait to see Touya's expression _then_!

The rest of the drive went by in silence, Hikaru endeavoring to keep a straight face and refrain from teasing poor boy. Touya might be clever and talented in the field of Go, but Hikaru was the experienced one in _these_ sorts of situations.

They arrived at the club, and Hikaru could barely contain himself as he leapt out of the car and ran around to Touya's side. He opened the door for the other pro, grinning like an idiot. "Come on out, Touya, everything will be alright!"

Touya looked up, favoring him with a particularly intense glare. "Shindou, your sense of humor is wretched and graceless!"

Hikaru laughed, reaching down to grab one of Touya's limp hands. "Come on, I bet that Waya and Isumi are already here! We have to show them that you can handle this."

Touya gave a long-suffering sigh and got out of the car, giving it one last longing look before Hikaru shut the door. "Shindou, I will kill you if I am embarrassed by your friends again."

"I'll keep that in mind, Touya," Hikaru said with a smirk.

* * *

Akira felt every muscle in his body tense as they entered the club. It screamed _bad place_ to him immediately. Unfortunately, his perky and energetic escort would never allow him to retreat.

Shindou bobbed in time with the music as he wove his way into the crowd, towing Akira behind him. Akira ground his teeth together and prayed for strength. There was no way to slip away, for Shindou's grip was firm around his wrist…and Shindou was his protection here!

As he looked up, eyes drawn by movement, he had the misfortune of seeing that there were, indeed, naked and stripping people on two stages, dancing in a variety of disturbing ways. One stage seemed solely dedicated to the female performers, while the other…the other was for men.

Akira choked, a blush blazing up in his face.

Just then, Shindou found Waya and Isumi. Both already had drinks and seemed entertained by the stage shows.

"Waya, Isumi! What's up?" Hikaru called.

Waya grinned, waving madly. "Hikaru! Yo…uh…you brought Touya?" Waya looked confused.

"Of course! _He_ needs to be here. He's never seen anyone naked…and I'm sure he's never had sex with anyone. He needs to see this before he can do that, right?" Shindou sounded smug.

Akira blushed even harder, if that were possible. "Shindou!" he squeaked in helpless outrage.

Waya laughed. "Oh yeah, Hikaru, like you've ever had sex!"

"I've dated! I've kissed and…other things." Shindou sounded defensive.

Akira felt immensely relieved that Shindou was not as experienced as he pretended. It somehow made things even more awkward when he tried to imagine being friends with a sexually experienced Shindou.

Waya waved his hand in dismissal. "Yeah, yeah, but these are the only naked girls you've ever seen!"

Shindou released Akira's wrist, and seemed to promptly go into pout-mode. "You're so mean, Waya!"

"Who are you trying to impress?" Waya taunted.

Shindou blushed slightly, glaring back at his friend. "No one!"

Akira followed the exchange carefully, convinced that he had missed something. Why would Waya think that Shindou was trying to impress anyone?

And why did Shindou insist on dressing outrageously when they went out like this? Even though there were no holes in the pants tonight, they were tight black leather, and though Shindou wore a fishnet shirt again (no sleeves, this time), there was no shirt beneath it. It only emphasized the slenderness of the other pro's body, accentuating the slight curves and harder planes that comprised that body.

Why did he care, anyway? Shindou only embarrassed himself. He looked away, feeling that his face was too hot and too obvious.

"Come on, Touya, let's get some air," Shindou murmured, towing him towards a pair of double glass doors.

He received the impression that Shindou was a bit miffed at Waya for something. It had to have been their last exchange, though Akira couldn't really imagine why. Waya had certainly said worse things!

The outdoor area was a fenced in patio, secluded and quiet. A few tables were scattered around, and the landscaping was lush and relaxing to look at.

"Damn, I forgot to get us drinks. What would you like, Touya?" Shindou turned to look at him, green eyes stormy and dark.

Akira stared, fascinated. This side of Shindou…was intriguing, too. "Water is fine."

Shindou made a face. "No, Touya, you can't have water. You need to have alcohol."

"Very well, whatever you're having."

The other boy left him standing on the patio, and Akira couldn't help thinking about the dancers inside. Shindou had not seemed particularly interested in them himself, despite all of the talk and flash he put on. Akira had not felt particularly disturbed by the girls – just embarrassed. But he didn't know what to think about naked men. He was certain that he wasn't supposed to have ever seen such a thing, and wouldn't have – if it weren't for Shindou.

Hearing the sound of heels on the cobblestones, he turned. They were coming from a side path that he hadn't noticed initially. It looked like it snaked off into a garden, or perhaps another patio.

A tall, slender man emerged from the shadows, stopping when he saw Akira. "Well, hello. Are you all alone?"

Akira shook his head, taking an uncertain step back. "No, I'm here with a friend."

The man smiled slyly, dark eyes lighting up. "That's too bad – you should have more than a 'friend' with you. But I suppose it's good news for me."

"What do you mean?" Akira asked, confused.

The man approached him closely, reaching out to touch him.

Akira tried to avoid him, but the man ended up grabbing his wrist, being faster and having a longer reach than he had anticipated. "Where are you going?" the dark-eyed stranger purred.

"Away!" he snapped, struggling to get away. Just as he broke free, he caught a glimpse of Shindou in his peripheral vision. The other boy had set the drinks down on a nearby patio table and was racing to intercept.

"Akira, what are you doing with some other man!" Shindou exclaimed in an accusatory tone, giving the stranger a perfunctory glance before turning back to him.

Akira blinked at his supposed protector, both at the familiar use of his first name and at the tone. "I…?"

Shindou stepped in close, pressing right up against him. This close, he realized that the blond-banged boy was actually slightly shorter than he was, contrary to his earlier impression while he was seated in the car. That, however, was in the back of his mind, as the rest of his mental faculties were in an uproar. Or perhaps it could be better described as panic.

One of Shindou's hands slipped down to curl around his hip possessively, and the other arm went across his back, forcing him close. "Just play along," Shindou whispered in his ear, lips brushing across his cheek as the other boy drew back slightly.

Akira found it difficult to do anything, what with his heart hammering in his chest and his blood raging in his head. He couldn't concentrate, he couldn't breathe and he couldn't move. What was going on?!

Shindou's face drew dangerously close to his, and he only had a moment's realization of what was about to happen before the other pro's lips pressed against his in a warm and lingering kiss. A tongue pressed at the line of his lips softly, and his mouth was open just enough to allow it to slip in. Shindou gave him a shallow, passionate kiss, bright green eyes closing.

The bottom of Akira's stomach dropped out and he felt heat flush throughout his entire body. He forced himself to be still, allowing the penetration of his mouth and had just begun to respond slightly with his own tongue when Shindou pulled back.

Those green eyes blazed into his, burning with something he couldn't identify. "Don't go running off with other people anymore, my Akira."

"Ah…" Akira noticed distantly that the man that had attempted to accost him had just turned away and left in disgusted annoyance.

The moment stretched out, every inch of his body aware of where Shindou pressed up full length against him. He could even smell the other boy's hair, and he could have sworn that he'd felt lip gloss on the lips that had pressed against his.

Shindou suddenly pulled back, hands sliding briefly down Akira's back before they completely withdrew. "Great acting, Touya! Whew, that guy was really going for you! Sorry about having to do that to you, but I didn't know how else to get him to back off."

Shindou turned and grabbed their drinks, giving Akira's to him. Akira closed his hand automatically, but his mind – and body – were still feeling like they'd short-circuited. What…had _that_ been? Shouldn't he feel disgusted? Annoyed? Instead, he felt as if something huge had hit him. He was stunned, yet violently alert and focused.

Shindou was beaming at him, but he noticed that the other boy's cheeks were flushed, just like his must be. "Do that often?" Akira managed to murmur.

"What, kissing? No, not really. Every once in a while I'll date a girl and we'll kiss, but this kiss was more fun than any of those ever were! Just to see the look on your face! I thought you were going to pass out!"

Akira desperately sipped at his unappealing liquor, attempting to focus on something besides Shindou's amusement at his expense. "Why was it so much fun?" he muttered into his drink.

Shindou paused, looking slightly bemused. "I'm not sure. It just was."

With that, the other boy dragged him back inside to rejoin his friends.

"Where'd you go, Hikaru? I thought you were doing your prissy pout thing." Waya was grinning.

Isumi sighed and lightly cuffed the obnoxious boy.

Shindou bristled slightly. "I do _not_ pout prissily! We went to get drinks, and then Touya was accosted by some guy."

Waya burst into laughter. "Oh, god! I can't say that I'm surprised. So how did you save him?"

Shindou grinned. "I just went up and made like I was Touya's boyfriend and gave him a little kiss."

Waya's mouth dropped open, and the other boy looked floored. "You…_what_?"

The bleach-banged boy nodded, hands on his hips. "Yes, that's what I did. It seemed to be a good tactic, because it worked. I said something about how Touya had better not run off on me!"

Akira wanted to crawl away. Waya turned an appraising look on him, as if trying to analyze him for strange or mysterious properties.

Isumi nudged Waya in warning.

"Hikaru, that's like – _not normal_." Waya was frowning.

Shindou frowned back, crossing his arms. "What's wrong with helping Touya? I'm not so afraid for my masculinity that I can't do what it takes to disarm a situation!"

Waya lifted his chin. "Huh…not afraid for your masculinity, eh?"

"That's right!" Shindou retorted.

"What about you?" Waya asked Akira.

"Ah…Shindou was trying to help." At least his color was coming back down.

"You didn't mind being kissed by a guy?" Waya looked suspicious.

Akira didn't bother to point out that it had been more than just 'kissed'. They were leaving out the fact that Shindou had been wrapped around him and had actually given him an intimate kiss, but why add details that would just make things worse? "I wasn't really asked, so…"

"Waya's not being any fun tonight, Touya. Maybe we should go somewhere else." Shindou looked positively annoyed.

"Sure, Hikaru, go ahead and spend more _alone_ time with Touya. I'm sure he'll like that. He's apparently already done weird things to your brain." There was a definite sneer in Waya's tone, and the boy seemed almost angry.

"Waya!" Isumi chastised his friend, throwing an arm around him to choke him slightly.

Shindou looked shocked. "Fine! His company is better than yours, anyway! I don't know what's gotten into you lately, Waya. I'm the same person I've always been – Touya hasn't done anything to me."

Akira wanted to defend himself to Waya, but he didn't get the chance. Shindou was pulling him along towards the door.

* * *

"Goddamned Waya!" Hikaru growled as they raced along the highway.

Touya was silent beside him.

The one good thing about the evening had been Touya. He'd honestly been entertained by saving Touya, and playing the other boy's 'boyfriend' for five seconds. He hadn't really planned on the kiss, but once he'd gotten that close, it had just seemed to come naturally. It seemed like something that ought to happen when he was so close to Touya's face, and those beautiful and intense eyes…

He shook his head slightly, remembering the feelings he'd had when they'd been pressed together, and when he had kissed Touya. It was interesting, but it probably wouldn't happen again, since it had only been a ploy to rescue the other pro.

Hikaru wondered what Touya thought about the whole thing. The other boy hadn't even yelled at him after the fact, but had just seemed…stunned. Elsewhere. He realized with a start that he had probably stolen Touya Akira's first kiss. The thought gave him a wicked amusement. Girls everywhere would want to kill him if they knew!

"There you are, Touya. That kiss will at least prepare you for your first girlfriend." Hikaru grinned, slanting an amused look over at the other boy.

Touya turned to look at him, brows arched. "Do you think that a kiss with a boy is similar to a kiss with a girl?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I think that it must feel different," Touya said quietly, looking out the window.

"Well, I've kissed girls, too." He couldn't very well tell Touya that his kiss had been more fun for more reasons than just the situation they'd been in, however.

"So do you think there's a difference?" Touya was glancing at him again from the corner of one slanted eye.

"Definitely. Girls are…hm, soft and yielding all the time, and they never take initiative."

"Wasn't I soft and yielding? And I didn't initiate anything."

Hikaru squirmed in his seat a little, looking straight ahead. "Well, you were surprised, and I'm sure you wished that I had been a girl! After all, I would have if I were you."

"Is that so?" Touya replied softly.

"Of course! And those girls on stage were hot, weren't they? I wish we could have taken one of _them_ home."

Touya turned to stare at him. "Poor Shindou. You're stuck with just taking _me_ home."

Startled, Hikaru glanced swiftly over at the other pro in an attempt to ascertain his meaning. Those aqua eyes were no less bright in the dimness of his car, but looked very intent and unreadable, the centerpiece in a triangular and aristocratic face.

Even Touya's features were graceful.

"Uhh…yeah. Well, even though it's not the same, that's cool. You're my best friend, and I love hanging out with you, Touya – even when you yell at me! I'd take you over taking some chick home anytime." He tried to sound cheerful. Happy. Anything to take the weirdness out of the air.

"Hmm."

Something about Touya had changed. _That_ was for certain. Those looks, that attitude…something was off with his friend. Was Touya truly angry about the kiss after all? He hoped not. They had _just_ made up.

He couldn't take any more fighting right now. When he and Touya were on the rocks, he couldn't eat, sleep or think. It was truly irritating, and even though they had a few more months of their break, they'd soon have to be playing for titles.

"I swear we'll do something you'd like next time, okay? We'll go out to eat or something, just us, no Waya or Isumi. We can even discuss Go. God, Waya's just been unholy hell lately, hasn't he?"

"I'd like that. And I really can't comment on that last bit, and you well know it."

Hikaru laughed, ruffling the back of his own hair with one hand. "Yes, well…I know the two of you don't get on. But I promise."

"I don't know why I endure you, Shindou!" the other pro sighed. But Touya was smiling slightly.

Hikaru relaxed. Thank god, the weirdness had dissipated. He didn't think he could have managed to take much more of it.


	6. It's Not Normal!

Akira waved back at Shindou as the other pro backed out of his driveway. Even after that ridiculous yellow car had disappeared around the corner, he remained standing there, staring after it. He didn't really want to go inside, even though it was only 10 P.M. or so. They'd returned much earlier than he'd thought they would. That was probably a good thing, considering how strange the night had already been.

He touched his own lips lightly, confused. Was Shindou truly unaffected by the random, strange things that he inflicted upon Akira? Why did the other boy keep dragging him out to these sorts of places? He wasn't sure that he understood friendship.

Suddenly, it struck him that the other pro still hadn't returned his palm pilot. "Shindou!" he exclaimed quietly, feeling a twinge of annoyance. That palm pilot did not need to be with someone like Shindou any longer – someone who had never respected the privacy of others!

Akira groaned and turned to go inside, then noticed that there were lights still on in his house. He paused, slightly concerned, then relaxed. His father had probably forgotten to turn them off, as happened sometimes when he stayed up late playing Go with his associates.

As he locked the door behind him, he turned only to be startled half to death by his father sitting on the sofa, very much awake. The man's expression was narrow and critical, which was never a good sign for Touya Akira.

"Son…you seem to be making a habit of spending your free time with that Shindou character. I've noticed that you're also not spending as much time at the Go salon. I'd advise you not to become too friendly with that boy. He is a bad influence, and not the type of person that you should be associating with."

Akira knew all of this, but for some reason hearing it from his father made him…angry. He saw brief flickers behind his eyes of Shindou crying, Shindou laughing…Shindou kissing him. Shindou's serious eyes. "I like spending time with him, father. Don't worry, I will not acquire his traits just by being near him."

His father glanced away, looking uncomfortable. "Akira, I have misgivings about your friend. I strongly suspect that he has unnatural tendencies, and I do not want you subjected or exposed to such things. He might contaminate you."

He felt the heat rising in his face and struggled to think of boring, staid things, like playing against amateurs, or tutoring games. "I'm not certain what unnatural tendencies you are referring to, but I do agree that his bleached hair is a bit much. I would never do such a thing, as I'm sure you know." He smiled tentatively at his father, hoping this would end the painful conversation that they were in.

He'd actually come to like Shindou's bleached bangs. Akira couldn't even imagine the other boy without them. It was something that was essential Shindou, just like the stupid things he did and the nonsensical leaps of Shindou-logic that the other boy was always subjecting him to.

His father's expression became stern and intent. "I've never known you to speak this way to me, Akira. It seems he is already influencing you. And what is this that you're wearing?"

It was somewhat pitiful that he was almost 18 years old and yet still felt like hanging his head in shame when his father used that tone on him. "We went out to a club, so I needed to wear casual clothing."

"You are going the wrong way, son. I think it'd be best if you stayed away from Shindou Hikaru from now on. I will be in touch with some of my associates and will endeavor to find you a proper companion."

Completely speechless, Akira bowed to his father and went upstairs, incapable of thinking until he had safely reached his room. He closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, closing his eyes.

Not see Shindou? See someone else, but not Shindou? He felt panic at the very thought.

Akira clenched his fists, hanging his head. He had never gainsaid his father in his life, not once. But he wasn't willing to avoid Shindou just because his father was uncomfortable with the other boy's strange behaviors.

Shindou wouldn't understand. Shindou would be hurt. Shindou would cry.

That wasn't acceptable. Just once, he would have to disobey his honored father. It would be just this once.

Inevitably, his thoughts turned back to their evening again. In the car, the other pro had said that he had wished they'd been able to take one of the girls home, commenting on how 'hot' they had been. But he distinctly recalled noticing that Shindou hadn't looked at any of the strippers, or anyone else in the club aside from his friends.

The feeling he'd had when Shindou had said those things had been…strange. Almost like losing a game to someone other than the bleach-banged boy, which hadn't happened in years. It was a painful feeling, a sharp feeling.

Why had Shindou said those things? And why was Akira disturbed by his friend's interest?

Perhaps it would help him become more comfortable with himself if his father did find him a companion. Perhaps all he needed was to have a girlfriend or two, just as Shindou had. This awkwardness was likely from a lack of experience with such things.

But that was no reason not to see Shindou.

* * *

Waya ground the ice between his teeth, fixing Isumi with his best glare. "It's so annoying." 

Isumi arched a brow slightly, but continued unwrapping his hamburger with a determined air. "You're still upset, Waya? That was over two hours ago."

"I know, but god! Hikaru has been acting like a complete moron for the last year or so. It was subtle at first, but it's gotten positively obvious the last few months! The way they carry on, with the looks and all – it's like they're a couple of fags, Isumi!"

He glanced up at Waya blandly. "Even if that were true, why would that bother you so much? Is it truly Hikaru you're upset with?"

"What are you trying to say??" Waya's eyes narrowed dangerously at him.

"You just seem awfully attentive to the nuances of their interactions. I've never seen you be so hard on Hikaru before, nor have I ever seen you carry on about anyone the way you do Touya Akira." This was why he and Waya were at McDonald's twenty minutes past midnight. He could always tell when the other boy needed to vent about something.

Waya clenched his jaw, glancing away to stare at the floor. "It's like they think it's okay. They're taking this friendship thing too far."

The times were few and far between that he couldn't read Waya, but this might be one of them. His friend's notions about the bounds of friendship were rigid and peculiar, as he'd often been reminded when he had somehow crossed one of them.

"Isn't it okay if that's how they feel?" he asked softly, trying to appear calm and unaffected.

"No!" Waya exclaimed, pounding the table with a fist and pinning Isumi with fierce eyes. "That's bad, no matter what!" There was a slightly desperate quality to the other boy's determined expression.

Here was the underlying problem between them. He had been friends with Waya for years, so he could understand how much such a person could matter to another. He could understand Hikaru and Touya's situation because his own was very similar.

Isumi cared about Waya more than he ought to, and had for some time. But the moment he entered the other boy's personal space, even though it had always been innocent, he had always been violently rebuffed. Once he had been knocked against Waya on the train and his friend had responded by shoving him away so hard that he had almost fallen backwards. Waya had apologized, but there had been a strained, haunted look in his eyes belying the awkward smile on his face.

He had good reason to believe that not only was Waya homophobic, but that perhaps the other boy had a reason to be – something to hide.

Isumi met that amber gaze with a frown. "It's _not_ bad, it's just different. Besides, Hikaru dates girls from time to time, doesn't he?"

Waya favored him with a scornful look. "Hikaru is gayer than hell. At least, he looks and acts that way to me. I don't know what to think about the girl thing. I also don't know what to think about Touya, aside from the fact that he's got an attitude problem and has a bad effect on Hikaru. I _did_ see Touya checking out Hikaru's ass one time, though."

Isumi rolled his eyes. He had seen it, too, but he wasn't about to fuel this homophobic dementia. "What would you do if Hikaru turned out to be gay?"

"Kill Touya," Waya responded matter-of-factly.

"Waya!! Touya is not going to change anything about Hikaru."

"Hmph. I'm sure _we've_ already picked up his cooties, too." Waya pouted, poking sharply at his dwindling ice cubes with a straw. The lid lay off to the side, having been discarded almost immediately.

Isumi sighed, hanging his head. This would be a long night. At least Touya and Hikaru could _leave_ Waya. He had no such recourse.


	7. Dating and Jealousy

"Wow, like, why is this game so complicated?" Shindou's girlfriend squeaked, leaning perilously close to the Go board.

Akira wrinkled his nose, indignant. It was bad enough that Shindou had dared to bring such a creature to their weekend Go marathon _once_, but this was the second time. _And_ a different girl! The other pro had apparently begun dating as much as he could after the strip club incident. What had been that bit about not fearing emasculation?

The worst thing was that neither of the girls knew a thing about Go. He couldn't take it.

"Shindou! How can you do this? Don't you think that anyone worthwhile should know something about Go? Or at least be a decent player? You're a _pro_. There must be girls at the Institute that wouldn't turn you down! _Why_ this??"

Shindou clasped his hands behind his head and grinned, leaning back in the booth. "What do you mean, Touya? They're both nice girls!"

"That don't know a thing about the center of your life!" Akira snapped back.

The girl frowned, sweeping back her long black hair. "Hikaru, I don't like your friend. He's very rude."

Akira almost exploded. Her familiarity with his rival was unreal.

"Yes, well, Touya is always like that," Shindou assured the girl, smiling at him as if to soften the insult.

Shocked, he stared at the other boy, but the last thing he wanted was to start something in front of this girl. He did not want to give the blond-banged idiot any reason to get closer to the girl, nor did he want to attempt to drive a wedge between himself and his rival at this critical juncture - or the girl and his rival. Shindou was the type to cling harder to that which was pushed or taken away from him, and he wasn't certain that he could bear repeated exposures to her. Perhaps they could make a rule that girlfriends were not allowed in the Go parlor?

But then again, his father had arranged for him to date the well-bred daughter of one of his friends, so it seemed he had his own girlfriend. He did not want to be prohibited from entering Go parlors by his own inconvenient rule that wouldn't serve to correct a damned thing.

Akira had been subjected to her company several times, and would be having dinner with her tonight at his family's home. It wasn't that the girl was all that bad, but he truly didn't want to spend time with her. He despised being forced to do anything that he didn't want to do.

On a positive note, he _had_ successfully retrieved his palm pilot, since Shindou seemed concerned that one of the girls would try to play with it.

He could not wait to show the other pro his girlfriend. Akira felt almost as if he had something to prove. If Shindou could get one, then so could he!

Frankly, the palm pilot was much more entertaining. Especially when he played the voice clip he had of Shindou saying, "I resign!" at the end of a game.

Akira tabled his irritation and played on, doing his best to ignore the girl.

* * *

Hikaru smirked as he noted the sharpness of Touya's movements as he placed his next stone and took a sip of his coffee. His rival was obviously annoyed, no doubt at his girlfriend's presence. 

Those aqua eyes flashed up to challenge him, all fire and determination.

Perhaps he owed it to Touya to have a girlfriend-less outing somewhere – and to his other friends, as well. It wasn't very fair to them to show them what they obviously had difficulty obtaining for themselves, after all!

Waya had also complained rather bitterly after being subjected to his girlfriends. Isumi, being wonderfully calm and tolerant, didn't say much of anything about the matter.

There was a community pool not too far from his house, and none of them lived so far apart that it would take very long to get there. He and Akira could walk, and Isumi and Waya would likely take the train to the stop near Hikaru's house and walk from there.

Yes, a pool outing sounded nice, especially with how hot it had been lately. His other friends would be thrilled to hear that it would just be the four of them, no girlfriends. He was even glad about it himself, now that he'd committed to the idea.

"…dou? Shindou, has the bleach finally killed all of your brain cells?"

Touya's wry tone jerked him out of his thoughts. "Sorry, what?"

Touya sighed, putting a hand over his eyes. "It's your move, you fool."

"Hikaru isn't a fool!" the girlfriend exclaimed heatedly. "He's probably smarter than you are!"

Touya's head came up sharply, and he fixed Hikaru's girlfriend with a lethal glare.

Hikaru winced, watching as Touya's rage ignited. No one challenged Touya like that and got out alive! He swiftly intervened, patting Amari's hand and reaching his other out towards his rival in an effort to placate. "Now, Amari, don't say that. Touya is a higher dan than I am, and he's extremely intelligent. In fact, he's a genius. He's definitely more intelligent than I am. I'm stupid when compared to him."

The flames of hell banked in Touya's eyes, and the other boy looked somewhat mollified. "Shindou, you're not lacking in intelligence, just tact. You have your own genius – you just express it somewhat differently."

Startled, Hikaru stared into Touya's aqua eyes, but was unable to read anything but sincerity and grudging admiration in their depths. He had never expected his rival to openly acknowledge that he had two wits to rub together. He wasn't as well spoken as Touya, and most people assumed that he was a complete idiot due to that, his impulsive outbursts and his tendency to be hyper. For the other boy to just _say_ something like that…

"_Tou_ya…" he exclaimed quietly, amazed and touched.

Touya smiled slightly, holding Hikaru's gaze with his own.

Suddenly Amari's hands were covering his eyes, and she was giggling. "Can you play blind, 'Karu?

Hikaru felt a stab of annoyance at his girlfriend. Couldn't she see that he and Touya were in the middle of a conversation? He pried her hands away, seeking out his rival's intense gaze again, but the other boy was sipping at his coffee and studying the planter to his left with absolute concentration.

"Touya, let's get together tomorrow with Waya and Isumi and go somewhere fun."

Touya gave him a startled, questioning glance.

"Yes, let's go somewhere fun!" Amari echoed, bouncing in her seat.

Hikaru cleared his throat and gave her an apologetic look. "It's just going to be us boys, Amari."

"But why!" she cried, looking stricken.

"Because they're sad when they see how beautiful you are and that you're _my_ girlfriend," Hikaru stage-whispered to her. "They don't have girlfriends."

"Oh! Hikaru, you're so sweet. I understand now." Amari giggled. "I'm sorry, Touya-san, I didn't realize that your situation was so sad. I forgive your earlier rudeness."

Touya looked as though he were about to go apocalyptic again, hands clenching on the edge of the table.

"Uh, so Touya, what about it?" Hikaru blurted out, reaching out to tug at the other boy's sleeve. "Say yes!"

Momentarily distracted from a blinding rage, the other pro looked at him, angry words seeming to get lost somewhere. "I…sure. I'll go."

"Want me to pick you up?" Hikaru offered, beaming at his best friend.

"No!" Touya said quickly, looking nervous. "I can walk – that's fine."

Puzzled, he examined the other pro. Touya had never seemed to mind being picked up before. "Well, if that's what you want."

"Yes, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Great, let's meet at the pool at noon!" Hikaru grinned openly, looking forward to tormenting Touya somehow.

"Agreed. If I go to the restroom, will my coffee be safe?"

"Huh?"

Touya favored him with an impatient look. "The last time I left my coffee unattended near you, you drank it."

Hikaru blushed, frowning at the other boy. "What makes you think _I_ drank it?"

"Oh, come on, Shindou. No one else would just randomly drink a stranger's coffee. You're the only person that comes here that's strange enough to do such a thing."

He looked down at the floor, scratching his head. "Hm, well, it was revenge on you for being such a jerk! But it backfired, because your coffee is disgusting. It's completely safe with me."

"I _thought_ so! But Shindou, that's really too much, even for you."

Amari was staring at him. He could feel it. "Did you really do that, Hikaru? That's…that's like _kissing_ someone!"

Hikaru blushed a deeper shade of red and tipped his head down further in an effort to make his hair hide his reddening face and ears. Of course her mention of kissing someone made him recall that he had done _that_, too. "Uh…I…didn't think. Impulsive…you know."

Touya patted his shoulder. "It's all right, Shindou, everyone knows that you're strange. I imagine that must be one of the things that they like about you."

He looked up at his rival, desperate for an escape from the embarrassing turn the conversation had taken. "I didn't _want_ to kiss you!" He almost died when he realized what he had said. "_I mean_, I didn't want to do anything _like_ that, even similar!"

The other pro's aqua eyes were glowing with amusement as they looked down into his. "Of course not, Shindou. You're not _that_ weird, I should hope."

With a jolt, he realized that Touya was teasing him _deliberately_ – and enjoying it! He watched his supposed best friend turn and walk towards the back.

He was now alone with Amari. The tense silence stretched out, and Hikaru continued to stare blankly after Touya as if he had not a single concern in the world.

"Hikaru?" Amari asked hesitantly.

"Yes?" Unfortunately, his voice sounded hoarse and tight.

"You seem to be awfully close with Touya-san. And you're blushing a lot, even though you're trying to hide it."

He wasn't sure that he could breathe around the lump in his throat. "Hmm. We've been best friends for four or five years. And he likes to embarrass me. It's nothing, Amari, really."

"Look at me, Hikaru." She sounded serious.

Hikaru forced himself to turn his head and meet her eyes. Yes, she was definitely worried. "What?"

"Do you _really_ like me? Is that why you asked me out?" Her large, dark eyes had something fragile in their depths.

Could he clear his throat without being obvious? He was not about to drink Touya's coffee again to do so. "Of _course_ I really like you, Amari! You're pretty and popular, and you've liked me for a while, right?"

She gave him an uncertain look. "What do you like about me?"

Damned girls. They were so difficult to deal with. Even more difficult than Touya Akira in highly offended mode. He hated to admit it, but he had simply picked what appeared to be the best candidate for a relationship from the pool of the girls that he knew already liked him. Amari had always been the most vocal and the most visible.

But even _he_ knew that such a thing would be unacceptable to say to a girl, though Touya accused him of being tactless. "You're very organized, and you're true to your friends. You've got a great sense of humor. Your fashion sense beats Touya's hands down. You're considerate."

Amari smiled, and suddenly leaned over, kissing him without warning.

Her tongue was warm against his, and the kiss was delicate and gentle. He blinked, staring at her closed eyes. He had kissed girls before, and it was always sort of pleasant and okay, and never made him feel uncomfortable. Not like that weird thing with…Touya.

A warm rush went through his body, and he felt relieved. That was more like it.

A movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he glanced to the side. It was Touya returning to the table, but the other boy had stopped, staring at them. The expression that chased across those aristocratic features was elusive and unreadable.

Hikaru pushed away from Amari and smiled gamely into her confused look. "There, there, it's not polite to kiss in public places, Amari!"

Amari noticed Touya standing there staring at them, and that seemed to galvanize the other boy, for he resumed walking towards them. "Why did you stop me only when Touya-san reappeared?" she asked quietly, for his ears alone.

"He's uncomfortable with such displays because he doesn't have a girlfriend and he's very uptight, remember?"

Amari compressed her lips in some sort of displeasure, but did not reply as Touya had drawn close enough to hear them now.

"Am I interrupting something…_Shindou_?" Touya's eyes were dark and slightly narrowed. Displeased.

Hikaru felt himself clenching his jaw even as he smiled up into that displeasure. "No, of course not, Touya. Amari was just overwhelmed with affection for me—"

"Hikaru!" Amari exclaimed, giving him a hurt look.

"I mean – we were _both_ just…just overwhelmed!" he exclaimed cheerfully, continuing to smile up at Touya. He couldn't seem to look away from those eyes, despite the fact that the look in them was capable of peeling paint and curdling milk.

"You know that I don't care, Shindou. Why are you explaining your relationship to me?"

Hikaru knew better than to believe that smooth, cultured tone when Touya's eyes were so obviously sending him an opposite message. What _was_ Touya so annoyed about?

"You seemed unhappy."

"Of course, it's my father's Go salon. The patrons are usually somewhat older, more mature people that don't enjoy seeing teenagers groping and generally being all over each other."

Hikaru felt his mouth drop open. He and Amari were _not_ groping and all over each other! "Touya, I think that's a bit of an exaggeration!"

"Is it? Well, I do need to get home and study kifu, as today has been quite unproductive. We've only played a few games, and you've been rather distracted, so it wasn't even a challenge to defeat you." Touya seemed cool and detached.

"Well, excuse _me_!" Hikaru huffed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He watched Touya walk away, realizing with a sinking feeling that he'd have to spend the rest of the day with Amari or find some tactful way to get rid of her. Unfortunately, it seemed that he _was_ rather tactless. He sensed that she was perilously close to washing her hands of him, and he'd hardly said or done anything to deserve it.

Amari's hand closed on his where it rested on the table. "Let's go back to your place and spend some quality time together, Hikaru." She leaned close to him, breathing into his ear, and he tried not to cringe. The sensation was physically pleasant enough, but somehow disturbing.

But he was done with being teased. He would do whatever she felt like doing, even if it was more than kissing.


	8. Intimacy Issues

Akira shielded his eyes against the sun as he scanned the pool area for Shindou amongst the throngs of people. It wasn't too difficult to pick out those bleached bangs. The other boy was leaning against the wall beside the door to the changing rooms. He saw that Shindou was already aware of him and raised his hand in a conservative wave, heading that way.

Shindou waved wildly back, looking vaguely cool and mysterious again with sunglasses on. The other boy was in a yellow tank top and black shorts that were cut a bit too high, in Akira's opinion.

Thank goodness his rival wasn't a girl, otherwise he'd be scandalizing the entire neighborhood with his habits of dress. Scantily clad, with fashion sense so terrible that it was amazing that people didn't laugh when Shindou showed up in those godforsaken Go shirts. Some days he would swear that there was a '5' on everything his rival wore. He wasn't certain as to whether he should be thankful or even more pained that the other boy had tempered that tendency as they got older, trading innocent Go shirts for fishnet and torn up jeans, which were worse in their own way.

His dear friend wasn't so innocent anymore, it seemed.

Shindou greeted him with a warm smile. "Ready to get changed? Waya and Isumi aren't here yet, but I'm sure they'll only be a few minutes."

Akira froze, staring intently at what appeared to be a trail of dark hickeys that started under the corner of Shindou's jaw and disappeared into his shirt.

Shindou noticed his gaze and self-consciously raised a hand in what appeared to be a futile attempt to cover them.

"Things warm up with Amari?" he asked coolly.

Shindou glanced away, shoulders hunching. "She…was worried that I didn't like her enough."

"What did you do?" Akira asked softly, feeling an ache begin in his chest. He couldn't stop staring at the hickeys, the mark someone else had made on Shindou to lay visible claim to the bleach-banged boy.

Shindou hung his head, remaining silent as a couple of boys emerged from the changing room and walked past them. "Come on, Touya, let's change." With that, the other boy slipped quickly into the changing room.

Akira blinked, following just as rapidly. He would not stop cornering Shindou until he had an answer.

The changing room was deserted but for their presence. Good. He wouldn't have to be concerned about anyone else hearing this. "Shindou. _What_ happened?"

The other boy took off his sunglasses, giving Akira a slightly haunted look. "It wasn't…all the way. I couldn't…I didn't do anything. Too shy, I guess, for all my bragging. She…" Shindou mumbled the rest, blushing furiously.

"What? I didn't hear that."

"…went down on me…" his rival whispered, looking somewhat disturbed. Then Shindou forced a smile, looking up at him. "But that's good, isn't it? I scored! Won't be long before we actually have s-sex."

Akira stood staring, unable to move or say a word. He could see in his mind's eye Amari kneeling before a nude Shindou, and his imagination brutally supplied the noises the other boy might have made, the looks that might have crossed his face.

"Touya?" His friend's tone was worried.

"Yes…yes, that's…that's good for you, Shindou."

But inside, he couldn't stop shaking. At some point he'd be doing the same thing with his girlfriend, so he'd better get used to the idea now. It must be a side effect of his repression that he had such issues with the sorts of things that Shindou did with his girlfriends.

But he felt angry. And sick. He couldn't admit that to his rival, who obviously knew more about what to do with girls than he did. But at least he wasn't the only one that was uncomfortable with it.

Shindou gave him a last wavering smile and unzipped the bag that contained his swim trunks, lotion, and whatever else the other boy had thought to bring. Carefully laying everything out on the bench, he removed his tank top first, then turned his back to Akira and began to slip his shorts off.

Akira was slow to turn away, as enmeshed as he was in contemplating his friend's slim torso and tanned skin. He was further intrigued by the attractive back that was turned to him, and didn't realize how far his eyes had wandered until he saw the shorts go down, revealing Shindou's disturbingly appealing backside that had always been vaguely covered or shielded before now, albeit by torn up or tight pants.

Choking and turning bright red, he was in the process of turning away when he saw something dark at the bottom of the curve of Shindou's right buttock. Unable to help himself, he paused to look – and could have sworn he saw the kanji for his first name in black before his rival pulled on his swim shorts.

Shindou turned to him before he could look away. "Say—" The other boy paused, noticing that Akira had already been looking at him. "_Touya!_ Why were you looking at me? That's embarrassing!" A blush had spread across those tan cheeks.

"I was about to ask you something, too, but you go first." Good save. He struggled valiantly to keep his expression blank and calm, but it was extremely difficult, given the eyeful he had just seen.

Had that truly been _his_ name on Shindou's buttock? But if so, why would his rival do such a thing? What did it mean?

"I…I was going to ask if you would want to eat dinner later with Waya, Isumi and I. I don't know when you need to be home. Since I'd be driving, I could always just drop you off."

"I'll think about it." Akira smiled disarmingly at Shindou, hoping to distract him from the awkward moments that had just passed before.

Shindou smiled back engagingly. "What were you going to ask me?"

Damn his rival's capricious memory. "Just…just how your mother feels about your not going to a university because of your Go career."

The other boy's expression darkened. "Ugh. She isn't pleased, of course, but that's just too bad. University isn't what I want to do with my life. I have no desire to become anything other than who and what I am – a pro in the world of Go."

"I'm glad that you're committed to Go. I don't know what I'd do without a worthy rival!" He made his tone slightly teasing, trying to draw his friend out of the strange mindset he was in.

Shindou laughed. "Terrorize everyone, no doubt! Well—"

"_There_ you two are. Geez, you're like a couple of girls with how long it takes you to get dressed!" Waya was standing there glaring at them expectantly, hands on his hips.

Isumi appeared behind Waya and smiled. "Should I tell them about how you had a hard time deciding what color swim shorts to wear, the blue camou or the green camou?"

"Isumi!! You just _did_!" The smaller boy rounded on Isumi, taking a mock swing at him.

"_Someone_ has to knock that soapbox out from under you periodically."

"Isumi!!" Waya lunged and Isumi ran, the auburn-haired boy chasing after him.

Shindou suddenly favored Akira with a considering look. "Touya. We've been friends for a really long time, and rivals for even longer. Don't you think it's time you started calling me Hikaru? Everyone else does, and you just stand out even more than you already do when you call me Shindou…like the weirdo you are."

Akira blinked rapidly, mouth dropping open. "_I _am not the weird one. But…if you would like me to call you…Hikaru…then, I will try to do that."

"Can I call you Akira, then?" the other boy murmured, grass-green eyes searching his face intently.

"I-if you'd like. I don't mind." For some reason, switching to first names like this felt extremely strange to him. But Shin—_Hikaru_ had a point. He had been calling his best friend 'Hikaru' in his mind now for some time, anyway.

"We'd better go rescue Isumi," Hikaru said brightly in a complete change of subject, grinning as if he hadn't just been giving Akira third degree burns with his innocent green eyes.

"_You_ will do the rescuing. I will live to fight Waya another day."

The blond-banged boy laughed and tossed his belongings into one of the lockers. "All tactics, no risk! Akira, if it's the last thing I ever do, I will get you to _live_ a little."

"Hmph." Akira refused to rise to the bait, but he followed Hikaru out of the changing room all the same.

* * *

Hikaru threw his arms around Akira's shoulders for the sixth time that afternoon, laughing into the other boy's ear.

"Hikaru! You're splashing me!"

"And me, too," Waya growled, eyes like laser beams on where Hikaru's arms locked around Akira.

"What's wrong, Waya?" Hikaru asked sweetly, in too good a mood to be annoyed at the other boy's snappishness.

"You're all _over_ him, Hikaru! You are _so_ flamey! Just how is he supposed to find a girlfriend if he's either in front of the Go ban or decked in uber-gay Hikaru?"

Hikaru felt Akira's shoulders tense under his arms. "We're best _friends_, Waya! Why shouldn't I jump on him and torment him? Besides, I'm not gay just because I bleach my bangs. You've been on about that for years. You are _so_ mean. You're damaging my fragile self-esteem! And you're way too obsessed on finding gayness everywhere around you."

Waya turned three shades of purple and sputtered violently. "I am _not_! I just can't ignore how gay _you_ are! Your self-esteem is anything _but_ fragile."

As though confiding some secret, Hikaru said quietly near Akira's ear, "Don't get a girlfriend, Akira. They're really annoying, and they never leave you alone. How would you study kifu?"

He felt Akira shiver slightly within his embrace. Hikaru laid his face against the side of his rival's neck, yawning. "I am _so_ hungry. And I'm getting tired. How long have we been here?" As he spoke, his lips were moving against Akira's neck, but it didn't disturb him in the least. He had no issues whatsoever with being near his best friend, but the other boy seemed more tightly wound than usual.

Waya reached out and slapped Hikaru's arm. "Let go of the poor guy. You're probably suffocating him. We've been here too long, apparently, because you just keep getting clingier."

"But the pool is cold, and he's warm!" Hikaru protested, arms tightening around the very silent Akira.

"Dude, Hikaru, I've tried not to say anything, but where in the hell did you get those monster hickeys? They're all down the front of your body, and I don't even want to _know_ where else you have them!"

Now _he_ was the one that tensed. He did not want to have to keep explaining Amari's peculiar aggressiveness that ended in him being bent back over the bed and…taken advantage of. Or something like that.

"Girlfriend!" Hikaru replied, releasing Akira so that he could get away from Waya on the pretense of wanting to dive at the other end of the pool.

He _really_ didn't want to talk about it.

* * *

Waya watched Hikaru beat a hasty retreat. _Obvious._ What was so frightening as to scare the other boy away like that?

He turned his gaze on Touya, who remained quite silent and still. There was a blush that seemed permanent on the other pro's face, and the aqua eyes seemed dazed and inward focused.

"Hey, Touya. What did the girlfriend do to Hikaru? And you guys are on a first name basis now, eh? Well, it only took forever."

Touya seemed to snap out of something, glancing after Hikaru before turning back to meet Waya's eyes. "I can't really say. That's something for Hikaru to tell you, not I."

"He's right, Waya," Isumi chimed in from beside him.

"Go play or something!" Waya shot back at the taller boy, making a face.

"I have to remain here to guarantee that you behave in a civilized fashion," Isumi retorted.

"When did Hikaru get a tattoo?" Akira suddenly asked.

Waya whipped a sharp gaze on the aqua-eyed boy. "We went when we were drunk one night. When did you see that?"

"In…the changing room. I was just turning to talk to him, and I saw something. What was it supposed to be?"

"Dude! You _saw_ it? Where is it? I figured it had to be in some weird place, since I never…_hey!_ How did _you_ see that? Just where were you looking??"

Touya blushed harder, looking away. "I thought you'd know…"

"What is it? Tell me what it is!"

The other boy shook his head stubbornly. "I can't. Not if Hikaru didn't tell you. Not if you weren't aware of it."

Waya clenched his fists under the water. "It must be on his _ass_, since that's where _you_ like to stare!"

"Waya!" Isumi chastised sharply.

Touya's eyes went very wide, and the boy looked as if he'd had a board broken over his head. "I…I don't! It's the…the terrible things he wears! Anyone would have to look!" His voice was thin and tremulous.

Waya narrowed his eyes. Perhaps Touya was just as gay as Hikaru, if not more so. How was he supposed to deal with this? He hated seeing Hikaru give in to the darkness of such a wretched relationship.

It seemed that he would not be told what the tattoo was. He was confident that it was something scandalous, in a scandalous place. Hikaru never did anything halfway, it seemed.

"I'm getting out. Isumi?" Waya turned away, knowing Isumi would follow him out of the pool.

He walked over to one of the tables with their happy little yellow umbrellas and threw himself into one of the plastic chairs, glaring at the pool with hooded eyes.

Isumi cautiously took the chair opposite his. "This again?"

Waya did not reply for a moment, occupied with watching how quickly Hikaru returned to throw himself on Touya again. This time Touya laughed, splashing water at his attacker.

"Look at that," Waya muttered, tone laced with scorn and contempt.

"Why are you so obsessed with this? Most people would never take note of all the things that pass between the two of them."

"What are you implying!" Waya barked, glaring into Isumi's concerned gaze.

"That you're _way_ too sensitive to all this. You're overreacting. You've always been this way."

"I don't want to talk about it," he returned flatly. His tone was a clear warning to Isumi, his closest friend. He did not want to fight with him.

Isumi reached out to touch his hand, and he snatched it away, feeling threatened.

There were no further attempts to console him after that rejection. He sat there glaring at Hikaru and Touya frolicking like a couple of queers, Isumi watching him watch them.

Waya decided that he might have to pass on going out for dinner with everyone if Hikaru insisted on bringing his fag buddy. Each separately he could handle, especially Hikaru, but once Hikaru was with Touya, it was intolerable.

He hoped that Touya's daddy would make him go home. Dinner was worth passing on if he had to watch them make eyes at each other for one more moment.


	9. Restaurants and Revelations

Hikaru put the car in park, grinning to himself in the darkness. Akira had called him just an hour ago ago, inviting him to dinner in an oddly spontaneous fashion. It was a nice restaurant, but not outrageous.

He could hardly wait, as Akira had been unable to stay after going to the pool the other day, thus leaving him to go out with just Waya and Isumi. It was always a little lonelier without the other boy there.

Hikaru jumped out of the car, hit the 'lock' button on his key chain, and ran up to the door. It was an extremely humid night, and rather cloudy, as though it might rain soon.

As he entered the restaurant and searched for Akira, he thought that he might even be able to convince the other pro to go to the beach with him again. It had been a while since he and Akira had truly been alone.

He spotted Akira and raised his hand sharply as if to wave – and froze. Seated next to his rival was a slim, attractive young woman. She was currently deeply engaged in conversation with Akira, distracting him completely. Hikaru would never be noticed, waving or not.

Much less enthusiastically than a moment ago, he slowly made his way over to the table. Akira finally noticed him when he was standing next to them, waiting patiently for acknowledgement.

"Oh, Hikaru! Thank you for coming. I wanted you to meet my girlfriend, Miho. We were just discussing the upcoming matches. _Go_ matches, as Miho is quite aware of what Go is and reads 'Go Weekly' quite religiously. She plays rather well."

Hikaru wanted to slap Akira's pretty head right off of his shoulders. The other boy was giving him a smug, pleased smile, as if to say, 'look at _my_ prize'. "I'm sure you'd settle for nothing less," he returned briskly, seating himself.

Akira blinked innocently at him, as if unable to understand his slight attitude. After a moment, he shook his head and turned to his girlfriend. "Miho, this is my fascinating rival, Shindou Hikaru. He also happens to be my best friend."

Miho dimpled prettily, and Hikaru knew a violent, homicidal tendency just then. "It's so wonderful to meet you, Shindou-san. Touya-sama respects you greatly. And your hair is so…_trendy_. He didn't mention that!"

Hikaru felt himself twitch internally. This girl was so much worse than any he had ever subjected Akira to. What had he done to deserve this?

Miho turned back to Akira, eyes shining with adoration. "Touya-sama, what do you think of the upcoming match between Ogata-sama and Ochi-san? I hear that Ochi-san is quite determined to win."

With that, Akira and his wretched girlfriend were once again deep in fascinating conversation.

Hikaru glanced up at the paper lanterns above his head, and studied the beautifully painted ceramic ceiling tiles. Some had painstakingly detailed paintings of koi on them, while others were adorned with lotus flowers or mountain vistas.

The paper lanterns varied in color, some blue, some purple or white, and each had a different kanji painted on the front and back. Some read 'love', others 'tranquility' – the usual tripe. Where were the lanterns that read 'strength', 'courage' or 'perseverance'? Were these really relevant in a modern era? The state of the world—

Dammit, who cared! It wasn't fair! He couldn't tune them out, and he was being painfully ignored. Hikaru glared at Akira's animated face, willing the other boy to notice his irritation. Akira continued to chat obliviously.

Without even the distraction of ordering food, or waiting for ordered food, he couldn't imagine forcing himself to endure much more of this. He shot to his feet, slamming his hands against the table. "Look, I'm obviously just a third wheel here and I have nothing to contribute to this _enlightened_ conversation between two brilliant people that were obviously meant for each other, so I'm just going to _leave_ now." He forced a smile on his face in response to their shocked expressions and bolted out from behind the table, moving towards the door as quickly as possible.

Something in his chest felt hard and broken. He couldn't breathe, and his heart was hammering. He had to leave right this instant. How could Akira have invited him here without saying something about the girl? How could the other boy have proceeded to ignore him so completely? He felt _betrayed_.

As he made it to the parking lot, he heard the door open a second time behind him. "Shindou!"

He stopped dead, not turning around. "Are we back to that, then, _Touya_?"

"No! I just…I'm used to calling you that, and when you act childishly like this, it just comes out." Akira's tone was tight and angry.

As if _he'd_ been the one to commit some grievous error. He spun to face the other pro and noticed that Miho had come out behind Akira and was standing unobtrusively to the side – not that he cared. "Childishly?? You were terribly rude to me by completely ignoring me! Why did you bother to invite me if you were just going to be talking to _her_ the whole time? And why didn't you _say_ she'd be there? I thought it was just going to be the two of us!"

Akira scowled at him, but seemed unaware that Miho was present. "You're being ridiculous, Hikaru. I wanted you to meet her. Besides, didn't you practically ignore me with your stupid girlfriends in attendance? At least I'm not groping her in front of you."

"I did _not_ do anything to Amari! And go ahead and grope your stupid Miho-ho if you want to! _I_ certainly don't care!"

"_Hikaru!!_ You are _so_ graceless! Take that back this instant! Miho is a proper, educated girl, and she would never think of engaging in sexual relations with me before marriage, unlike _your_ whores!"

Hikaru felt as if he'd been stabbed. He didn't even _like_ those girls. "I'm surprised you managed to find one at all," he retorted quietly.

Akira's eyes snapped and flared with true anger. "Do you think I'm so pitiful and unappealing that I would find no one who would have me? Is that it, Hikaru?"

"That's not what I meant!" he shot back, clenching his fists tightly at his sides.

"What I'd like to know is what my name tattooed on your backside means!"

Hikaru gasped, thoughts grinding to a halt. So Akira _had_ been staring at him when they were getting dressed at the pool. "So do you stare at my ass often, Akira?"

The other boy flinched, blushing so darkly that it was discernible even in the darkness. "Who would want to? Besides, when it's hanging out all the time with your torn jeans and other scandalous clothing, who could miss it?"

Hikaru felt tears stinging his eyes. "What are you saying, Akira!"

Akira put one hand on his hip, gesturing casually at Hikaru. "You're dressed somewhat respectably at the moment, but your typical attire is that of a girl selling herself on the corner."

Left without any comeback to such a terrible thing, he could only stare with burning eyes at the casual, scornful and cold Akira that waited for him to defend himself.

"People are staring, Touya-sama…Shindou-san."

Akira jumped as if he'd been goosed and spun to face Miho. "Miho! I didn't know you were there."

"Yes, that was apparent," the girl returned dryly.

Hikaru felt a stab of something dark and unkind in his heart. "Did you ever tell Miho about the time we kissed? I'm sure she'd be interested in hearing all about it."

Miho looked startled and seemed to view Akira in a new light after hearing this revelation. "Is that true, Touya-sama?"

Akira stuttered, glancing rapidly back and forth between the two of them. "I…"

"I suppose it doesn't matter, as you came out here after him despite my attempts to forestall you. You said it was important, remember? More important than me, apparently."

Akira looked as if the two sides of a bear trap were about to snap shut on him. "_He_ kissed _me_! I had no say in the matter!"

"But who stood there and kissed back?" Hikaru belted out, grinding his teeth.

Miho frowned. "I'm very glad that we've met, Shindou-san. I almost made a grave mistake in committing myself to Touya-sama. I'm afraid I will have to speak with his father and bow out of this relationship."

Hikaru winced, looking away. "I'm sorry, Akira. I shouldn't have said that, but the things you said…this is too much!"

"_HIKARUUU_!" Akira snarled, whipping around to face him. The other boy ran at him, clearly intent on hurting him.

And he deserved it after sabotaging his friend's relationship and bringing up things he shouldn't have. He stood his ground, braced for whatever Akira might do to him.

Akira came to a halt only inches away from him, face very close to his. After a disconcerting moment of staring into eyes more enraged than Hikaru had ever seen them, Akira drew back and slapped him with force.

Hikaru's head snapped to the side, and he clapped a hand to his burning cheek. No doubt his cheek would be red for some time. "I'm sorry," he whispered to those raging aqua eyes.

"Not sorry enough!" Akira ground out, turning away from him and walking over to Miho. His entire body was tense and lined with rage.

Hikaru slowly got into his car, leaning his head against the steering wheel once he was safely inside. What had possessed him to say, to _do_, such terrible things? To Akira, no less, his best friend. What was _wrong_ with him?

Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he bit his lip, wondering if he had alienated Akira permanently by such an awful action. His entire body trembled with reaction, with emotion, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

* * *

Akira felt the need to kill something. It should probably be Hikaru, but he couldn't quite bear to destroy his rival. Despite the fact that his rival had just destroyed his first relationship.

"Touya-sama, I think I should go now. It's a shame that things didn't work out."

He turned to stare desperately at Miho. "Isn't there anything that I can say? How can you automatically believe _Shindou_, of all people? Is it the kiss? Because he threw himself on me and forced the whole thing! I cannot be held accountable for his actions!"

"But you two are still close friends – or so you said." Miho's gaze was patient and pitying.

"But we've been friends for ages! He's…he's my _only_ friend. Thus he has more liberty than most…"

"You should have let him go when he ran out in a huff."

"I _couldn't_. Hika—Shindou cries, and I didn't want him driving like that, or thinking I was trying to antagonize him…"

"Touya-sama…he is threatened by me. That much is obvious. And so what if he cries? He's old enough to take care of himself, isn't he? And look, he hasn't even left yet."

Akira stared at the bright yellow car, wondering what Hikaru was doing inside of it that he hadn't left yet. _Crying_. Those green eyes had seemed too bright right before he had slapped the other boy.

Who _cared_ if Hikaru was crying! After the terrible thing he had done, he deserved to be left to his crying. But he still felt a phantom pain in his chest at the thought of ignoring a crying Hikaru.

"Well then, since you believe that he wants to break us up, why would you agree to that, Miho?"

"Because it seems you have committed your feelings elsewhere. You want to go to him, don't you? Despite the fact that he caused this mess."

"I _don't_ have 'feelings' for him. We're just friends. Besides, that's disgusting. Please, Miho, don't get the wrong idea about this."

She met his eyes and looked sad. "But Touya-sama…he _did_ say that you kissed him back when he kissed you. And you don't look the least bit annoyed or upset about it to me."

Akira covered his eyes with one hand. "I was startled and confused, Miho. Please don't make it something more than it is."

"And what was that you said about your name tattooed on his backside?"

Akira groaned. "I just saw it when we were getting dressed at the pool. I turned around at the wrong time and saw a flash of it. What can I say? He's a 'freak', as he would put it. Whatever feelings or strange obsessions he might have are beyond my understanding. But he's still my friend, and my rival."

Miho looked suspicious. "I can't take the chance, Touya-sama. You're playing a dangerous game, and I don't want to be involved with you when it blows up in your face. I'm sorry, I truly regret this. I will have to tell your father that I won't be seeing you anymore."

"Thanks," Akira murmured bitterly, watching as Hikaru's yellow car started, pulled out and drove away. He fought a strong urge to catch the other boy before he left, to check that normally cheerful face for tearstains.

"I think he has feelings for you," Miho said softly.

That wasn't possible. Hikaru was very focused on girls. "I apologize for how this turned out, Miho."

"It was for the best."

Akira wondered if that were truly so. He tried not to think about what his father's reaction would be to the news that Hikaru had scared off his first girlfriend.


	10. Personal Space

Waya stretched, flopping back down on Isumi's couch like a brick. "So what did you rent?" he asked curiously around a hastily acquired mouthful of popcorn.

"Hmm…it's called 'Absolute Confidence'. It's supposed to be the heart-warming story of two friends that are inseparable, even through war and changes in their lives. They recommended it at the video store."

Waya perked up, interested. "That sounds good. Put it in and sit down. Come on, stop doing your fussy little straightening-the-house act and get over here. I want to watch it."

Isumi laughed and complied. "And why is it that we're always at my place?"

He rolled his eyes and said in unison with Isumi, "'Because Waya's place is always a mess.' Yes, I know. I rarely clean, and it's a terrible sin."

Isumi put in the movie, still smiling, and sat down next to Waya.

As the movie played, Waya couldn't help but notice that the two main characters gave off the same kind of vibe that he picked up from Hikaru and Touya. He tried to ignore it in favor of finishing the movie and not disappointing Isumi.

His suspicions were confirmed in the middle of the movie, when one dragged the other close in the middle of a heated argument and suddenly kissed him.

"Wow, they didn't say anything about this," Isumi muttered, sounding a little embarrassed.

Waya just stared at the screen. It was not a fake kiss. It was most definitely a sincerely executed intimate kiss. He could not avert his eyes as they began taking off each other's clothes, and had to force himself to keep breathing. He was already blushing, but as the taller man murmured intimate, loving things to his smaller companion wrapped tightly in his arms, Waya felt himself turn purple.

He managed to sit there through several more tender kisses and their caressing of each other, but when their naked bodies stretched out on the bed, tangling with each other, he couldn't take it anymore.

Waya shot up, frantic. "I need air." He bolted out of the door of Isumi's apartment, leaning against the wall outside.

His heart was beating too quickly, and he was disturbed to notice that he was actually somewhat aroused by what he had just fled from. There were days that he cursed his own strange beliefs. He did not believe in self-pleasure. He thought it an embarrassing thing, as sex was something that he would have access to as soon as he found the right person. As a consequence, his hormones seemed to be slightly out of control, especially if he was reacting to something like _that_.

The door opened, startling him. Isumi closed the door behind him and drew close, quietly examining Waya with dark blue eyes. Waya stared back, wide-eyed.

"Waya, we need to talk about your strange issue with homosexuality." Isumi placed a hand against the wall on either side of Waya's head, effectively trapping him.

"No, we don't." He moved to duck under Isumi's arm, and found himself pressed against the wall by a suddenly _much_ closer Isumi. Panicked by the proximity and the closeness of his friend's face to his, he reacted instinctively and shoved the other boy with all of his strength.

Isumi staggered back, arms windmilling – and hit the railing, starting to tip over.

Waya's heart stopped in his throat, and everything seemed to freeze and speed up all at the same time. If Isumi fell from the 2nd floor –

He darted forward, grabbing handfuls of the other boy's shirt, and wrenched Isumi back toward him, arms closing tightly around the taller boy to secure him. He was pinned against the wall again, but this time he made no move whatsoever. This was much better than a hurt or possibly even dead Isumi. His friend was so much more important than his issues.

Isumi's hands came up to grab his shoulders firmly and pushed him slightly away. "We _need_ to _talk_. **Now.** You almost hurt me, Waya!"

"I know!" he cried, staring up into Isumi's eyes, his own wide and panicked. "I'm so sorry. So _sorry_!" His fists remained clenched in the other boy's shirt, determined not to let him go, or let him fall.

Isumi took his hand, pulling him back inside the apartment. Waya could feel that the other boy was shaking.

The dark-haired pro pushed him down to sit on the bed, taking the computer chair beside it. Facing Waya, Isumi said, "Talk. You have always had this extreme personal space issue, but this is the only time that it has almost hurt me."

Waya didn't want to talk about it, and said as much.

"You don't have a choice," Isumi replied darkly, scowling intently at him.

"I…"

"Perhaps we need to start desensitizing you to touching other people. It's not the headlocks or slaps that bother you, oddly enough. It's things like this." Isumi leaned forward, touching his fingers lightly to Waya's arm.

Despite his best intentions, Waya jumped and leapt backwards.

Isumi raised his brows, then moved over to the bed to sit beside Waya. "Waya, we've been friends for so long. Can't you trust even me? What are you afraid of? I'm not going to hurt you." Isumi raised a hand and lightly ran a finger over the side of Waya's neck.

Waya flinched away.

"And then there's your attitude towards Hikaru and Touya. You truly are obsessed with their interaction."

"It's bad…" Waya whispered to the depths of those blue eyes, imagining against his will Touya and Hikaru doing the same sort of thing as the two men in the movie. As if that wasn't objectionable enough, he and Isumi suddenly replaced the other two in his head, making him grip his head in his hands.

"No!" Waya breathed harshly, closing his eyes tightly to shut out the sight of the real live Isumi looking at him. It just fueled the terrible vision.

What had made him shove Isumi away so dangerously? In that moment, it had reminded him of another time when his friend had been thrown against him in a train – and he had reacted in exactly the same way, sending the taller boy sprawling into the other passengers. They had never really talked about it, but he knew it had hurt Isumi's feelings.

It was the closeness – Isumi's face close to his, almost as if the other boy meant to kiss him. Seeing those blue eyes so close…was alarming. Intensely disturbing.

"Let's try just sitting close to each other on the couch. Come on."

"Do we have to?" he asked plaintively.

"Waya! It is not a fate worse than death to be close to someone else."

Whenever Isumi slipped into this stern mode, he tried to do whatever the other boy wanted. He was intimidated by stern Isumi.

He meekly followed Isumi to the couch and sat quietly beside the other boy, aware of the warmth of his body close at hand.

Tense as he was, when Isumi started chatting with him about amusing and irrelevant things, he relaxed and felt that he might be a little tired. He attempted to keep up his end of the conversation, but soon found his thoughts drifting…

* * *

Hikaru slowly turned his head towards his cell phone as it began ringing from its resting place beside him on the bed, staring vacantly into its blue glow.

As soon as he had gotten home, he had run upstairs to lay on his bed in the dark. He refused to acknowledge that tears were still running down his face.

He forced his eyes to focus on the screen. It read 'caller unknown'. He picked it up languidly and hit the green button. "Hello?" Silence. He tried again. "Hello?" His voice sounded husky and exactly as if he'd been crying like a girl.

There was a long silence on the other end, and he could _feel_ someone there. There was the slightest sound of someone's hitching breath, and then the _click_ of a disconnection. Hikaru gave his phone a disappointed glare. It had most likely been a wrong number.

No sooner than he had put it down than it began ringing again. It was Amari. "Yeah?" he answered, trying to sound a little more manly.

"Are you home? If so, I'd like to come over." She sounded coy. Sweet.

He didn't care. "Sure, whatever." His chest felt empty and barren, as if everything had been torn out, and all he could see were Akira's fierce eyes telling him that he had gone too far.

"Really?? I'll be over in a few minutes!"

Hikaru thought she sounded much too cheerful.

No doubt his mother would happily escort her in at any time, whether it be 8 P.M. or midnight. She seemed to like Amari - or any girl that he brought home - way too much.

She had seen him when he tried to race up the stairs, and with that sense that most mothers have, she had known instantly that something was wrong. She had asked him if he was crying, asked him what had happened. Refusing to answer, he had bolted into his room and locked the door behind him.

He hardly felt like himself anymore, what with all this anguish and anxiety he'd been feeling lately.

After what seemed like two seconds (and much too soon), a gentle knock came at his door. Hikaru struggled up to unlock the door, then turned back and collapsed right back onto the bed.

Amari let herself in tentatively, as if expecting an attack. When nothing happened, she eased the door shut behind her. "Hikaru…why are you in the dark?"

"No reason," he mumbled into the duvet.

Her weight settled onto the bed beside him and vague alarms went off in his head. This might lead to a repeat of the last incident. He hoped not, as she'd had her work cut out for her in getting him sufficiently aroused last time.

"Hikaru, I truly love you, you know." Her voice sounded dry, but gentle.

He felt a stab of guilt. "Mmm," he responded into the bed.

"I'd really like you to do something for me…_to_ me."

Hikaru opened his eyes wide, turning to look at her. Did she not notice that he wasn't really in that sort of mood?

Coy and guileful, she captured one of his hands and pressed it over her breast. "Surely you're interested!"

Surely he _wasn't_. "A-amari. I'm not really—"

She pushed his hand down and slipped it under her skirt, watching him closely as he tensed. "Are you a real boy or not, Hikaru?"

His fingers wanted to recoil from the feel of her panties, from the warmth against them. His mind was desperately looking for an excuse to end this, and he damned himself for being apathetic enough to allow her over at a time like this.

"How do I answer that?" he whispered, forcing a smile that felt as though it must reflect the growing sickness inside of him.

"Like _this_," she murmured, moving to slip his hand _into_ her panties.

As soon as he touched the flesh there, the humid warmth, he yelped and jerked away as if burned. Almost unconsciously, he wiped his hand on the duvet, huddling into the bed. "I can't!"

Blazing aqua eyes.

Amari was silent for a long time, then with a sneer in her voice said, "Would it be better if I were _Touya_? Would you be able to perform _then_, Hikaru?"

He gasped, jerking his head up to stare at her. "A-amari! How can you _say_ something like that?!"

She gave him a knowing look and leaned over him, pinning him to the bed. "I'm not completely blind, you know. Why don't you just pretend I'm your Touya?"

Hikaru shuddered, closing his eyes. "He's not – we're not – it's nothing like that!"

"You're right, because he'll never love you," Amari replied in a hard tone.

He bit his lip, bringing his arm up to cover his eyes, and tried to quell the sting of fresh tears.

"And you've been crying. Did he hurt your feelings? Did he find someone suitable, say, a nice_ girl_?"

Hikaru wanted to hurt her. His fists were clenched. "I wouldn't know," he ground out in a low voice, eyes squeezed shut as tightly as they would go. This was a side of Amari that he was completely unfamiliar with.

She slid a leg between his as she said, "Imagine Touya doing _this_." "And this." She ran a hand down his stomach.

He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, trying _not_ to imagine any such thing, but _the kiss_ wouldn't leave him alone, and the way the curve of Akira's hip had fit so nicely into his hand, body fitting with his, mouths sealing perfectly. To perhaps _kiss him again…_

"You're very predictable, Hikaru. Your body responds right away when you think about him, whether it be a blush on your face or a reaction in certain other areas. You're aroused, just…like…_that_. Who would have thought that a cute boy like you would be a faggot?"

Hikaru gasped, pulling his arm away to glare up at her. "I am _not_ gay!"

Amari gave him a pitying look that had a touch of calculation behind it. "You can't bear to touch me. You can't become aroused enough for sex. You _never_ initiate anything. Yet you react like a virgin girl with her first crush whenever Touya is around. How can you say you aren't gay, or that you don't want him?"

He closed his eyes again, trying not to show his emotions as expressions. "I'm just shy. Touya and I are best friends. I'm just used to him." There was something desperate in him, panicking at the stretched and thin line that he was having to walk.

"Hikaru, _it's not normal_. This is pitiful. You're in such obvious denial. I could be very useful to you, you know. I'm not as stupid as I act. I could learn more about Go, assist your career, keep you on the straight and narrow. We could get married…and if you don't like that idea, why I could always share your preferences and feelings with the Go community…and with Touya. And Touya would be ruined, too, naturally."

Hikaru choked, pushing her off of him and snarling. "How _could_ you! Leave Akira alone!"

She seemed amused by his aggression. "Or what?"

He felt something cold and sharp rise within him. "Don't challenge me, Amari."

"If your Akira is so important to you, you'd best change your attitude."

He sat up, enraged. "Get out of my room! Leave my house right now!"

"Don't forget…if you bar me from entering when I come back, I'll just go right to the Go community. You want me on your side, Hikaru. Be kind to me."

Hikaru was only a moment away from throwing a heavy object at her when she departed from his room. He lay back down on the bed, even more miserable than before.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, sadly still somewhat aroused. If he tried very hard, he could imagine that Amari had excited him. But even the thought turned his stomach.

He would go looking for Akira tomorrow to make things right.


	11. The Wrath of Touya Kouyo

Akira reluctantly turned his key in the door, having no desire to enter his home. Miho had apparently already come and gone, as there was no sign of her car. She had left the restaurant before him – without him. He had wanted to walk home alone to sort out his thoughts and feelings.

But before he had walked home, he had made a call from the restaurant phone to Hikaru's cell. Just to make certain that his friend had made it home all right, that he hadn't wrecked somewhere. He had to know for certain, otherwise he'd be haunted by horrible images of the other pro lying hurt somewhere, bleeding to death.

But Hikaru had answered after only two rings, very much alive. From the sound of the other boy's voice, he had been crying. Unable to bear responding to that pain, unable to deal with it, Akira had hung up without saying anything.

Both his father _and_ his mother were waiting for him as he entered, seated with awkward stiffness on the couch. His mother's face was pinched and anguished, as though someone had died. His father gazed at him without expression, but his eyes were hard.

Akira had the insane urge to bolt back out of the house and run, to run somewhere that he could hide. To run to Hikaru, perhaps. The other boy had always seemed safe to him, though he knew the bleach-banged boy was not necessarily steady or reliable.

"Son…I told you before that Shindou Hikaru was not an acceptable person for you to spend time with, that he was to be avoided. You have apparently continually disobeyed me since I told you that you were not to spend time with him anymore. Why is that, Akira? You have never disobeyed me before."

Akira could hardly breathe due to the anxiety squeezing his throat shut. "It's just _Hika_-Shindou, father!" He cursed in his mind as the familiar first name slipped out, damning him even further in the eyes of his father. "He's harmless!"

His father's eyes narrowed. "It's that very familiarity – that _unseemly_ familiarity – that drove your very first girlfriend away! I cannot believe that you managed to disgrace yourself and Miho so thoroughly in such a short time! She was mortified, Akira, and she told your mother and I about _everything_ that happened."

He felt cold panic flood him, cramping his stomach. _Everything?_ Hikaru's rudeness, Akira running out after him, the _kiss_? _Please_ not the _kiss_. He prayed that Miho had _some_ decency in her heart, that she had spared him that pain. She hadn't seemed like a bad person to him.

"I apologized to her, father, and asked her to overlook Shindou's behavior." Akira felt that his voice would start to tremble soon. But he could not go to his room until his father was finished.

"Son…this 'friendship' that the two of you have…_it's not normal._ Don't you see that? Do you _understand_, Akira? How have your mother and I failed you? Have we not provided an example of what acceptable companionship should be?"

Akira averted his eyes, staring hard at the empty loveseat. "What's abnormal about our friendship, father? I will, of course, continue to seek a woman to be my companion for life, but how can it be wrong to be friends with Shindou? The two things are not related."

"That's where you seem to be confused, son. You say that, but Miho told me that the two of you had a loud and disgraceful argument in the parking lot tonight where everyone could hear you – and neither of you seemed to care. I cannot believe that _my_ son would act in such a rash and thoughtless fashion unless his feelings were deeply involved."

Akira rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at his father briefly. "Shindou makes me very angry, sometimes."

"She said that it was an argument about _girlfriends_, of all things - and the way that your friend dresses. There was also something about a tattoo that you saw, son? Miho said that this tattoo of Shindou's was somewhere private, but that you were aware of it. What was that tattoo, Akira, and how did you see it?"

Could this get any worse? Aside from his father knowing about the kiss, he was certain that it could not. He could feel himself blushing. "We were – we were getting changed to go swimming, and I accidentally saw it."

"Akira. What was the tattoo?" Touya Kouyo's tone was full of warning.

"It was…the kanji for my first name. I have no idea why he would get something like that in such a place."

His mother stirred. "Akira, can you truly be unaware of the reason that Shindou-kun would do such a thing? Isn't it apparent to you that he has abnormal yearnings towards you?"

"It's apparent to me that he's an idiot who's always causing me trouble," Akira muttered, raising a hand to massage his left temple. He had the beginnings of a truly spectacular headache.

"Then by god, Akira, _cut him off!_ Please, son. We'd rather you do this of your own volition."

A chill went through Akira's body at his father's phrasing. Cut Hikaru off of his own volition…or _what?_ "Father…I can't. In good conscience, I cannot do that to him. It would be wrong."

His father shot to his feet, rage and pain suddenly transforming his face. "And letting him kiss you _isn't?!_ You will _not_ be that way, Akira! My son is _not_ defective!"

Akira stared, mouth hanging open, stomach falling through the floor. She _had_ told them about the kiss! Unable to think of a single thing to say, he continued to gape at his enraged father. This was so much worse than anything he could have imagined.

His father was breathing hard, seemingly overwrought with the emotions that had made him raise his voice to Akira. "Akira, I think it is necessary to ground you until you come to your senses. You are not to leave the house, you are not to use the computer, you are not to use any phone for any reason. I—"

Suddenly Akira's ring tone filled the living room. He clapped a hand to the pocket his cell phone was in, willing it to stop. Who could be calling—? Surely Hikaru wouldn't—

"Give me that!" his father barked, striding over and thrusting his hand under Akira's nose expectantly.

Akira winced and hurriedly fumbled the cell out of its pocket, handing it over immediately.

Touya Kouyo flipped open the cell and stared at the screen for a long, tense moment. He pressed a button, then flipped the phone closed again. "There, perhaps that will send him the proper message."

"Father, who was it?" Anxious, he feared it had been Hikaru, calling to talk, and that his father had hung up on the other boy.

His father's gaze bit into him, full of contempt and disappointment. "Who do you think it was, son? It was your _friend_, 'Hikaru' as you have him named in your phone. I felt that hanging up on him was the most polite thing I could have done under the circumstances. Now go up to your room and stay there. I will hold onto this and hang up on Shindou as many times as necessary."

"Father! Hikaru will—" Akira reached out his hand towards the phone, unaware of what exactly it was that he thought he could do.

His father held the phone out of reach. "Do you defy me _still_, Akira? How _dare_ you act this way! Aren't you in enough trouble already?"

Akira withdrew his reaching hand sharply, looking down. His father was right. What had come over him? He was acting recklessly and impulsively, just like Hikaru. But all he could think about was how his best friend would feel when he was continually hung up on by who he thought was Akira. Was anything worse than allowing that to happen?

"Go!" his father exploded, pointing imperiously towards the stairs.

Akira jumped, then raced to comply, not looking back. He had almost expected his father to cuff him for his impertinence. Why couldn't he just do the logical thing instead of getting himself into these situations?

He shut the door of his room firmly behind him and sat down on the bed with a heavy sigh.

Hikaru would think that Akira hated him. The thought tore at him, paining him more than anything that he could remember. It troubled him even more than the disapproval and disappointment his parents had expressed in him. But what could he do?

Even if he wanted to disobey more grievously than before, he doubted he could slip out of the house. It was rare that both of his parents were absent.

It seemed that it was time for him to move out and live on his own, but he didn't feel entirely prepared for it. Also, moving out in the midst of this discord would likely break his family apart, and he didn't want that.

Why did they insist on drawing these lines, on trying to make him choose when there were no choices to be made? He couldn't fathom it. Miho, Waya and his parents seemed to think that there was something strange going on between he and Hikaru. But he suspected that the only difference between he and Hikaru's friendship and that of Waya and Isumi was that their embarrassing 'secrets' had not been spilled or discovered by anyone else.

Surely perfectly normal boys had accidental kisses. It had been for a noble cause – to save him from being groped by a stranger. That was okay, wasn't it? It wasn't as if either one of them had wanted a kiss, or set out to claim one from the other.

The memory of Hikaru's angry voice rang in his head. _"But who stood there and kissed back?"_

Akira stared at his black dress shoes without seeing them, remembering the emotion and torment in Hikaru's face. Did Hikaru feel something? Something different, something strange, something _not normal_? Did the other boy…did the other boy _care_ about him as he would a girlfriend, did he _want_ Akira?

He shivered, closing his eyes as his body tingled strangely. It was possible that Hikaru was confused, that their close friendship had misled the bleach-banged boy into thinking that Akira returned some sort of unnatural desire.

Some sort of…_unnatural_…

Impressions flashed through his mind of Hikaru's smile, Hikaru's arms around him. Akira was horrified when the tears welled in his eyes and overflowed, streaking down his face. His chest hurt so much. "Hika…Hikaru…it's not right for you to feel…that way. Don't care about me so much." He whispered the last, trembling, afraid to open his eyes.

His hands clenched in the bedding and a sob tore its way out of his throat. He couldn't recall the last time he had cried. Why was he doing so now? All he knew was that the emotions churning inside of him were tangled, tempestuous and unable to be catalogued properly. How could he deal with something that he couldn't understand?

They'd said such awful things to each other. He didn't think that Hikaru was disgraceful or whorish. He did not hate the kiss they had shared, or any of the time they had spent together.

Hikaru was confused, that was all. Akira knew that he would have to be understanding and gentle, careful with the sensitive soul that the other boy disguised under gales of laughter and brilliant smiles. He might very well be the only person that knew that side of Hikaru.

If his dear friend kissed him again, he would just push him away gently and tell him why that couldn't happen. Tell Hikaru that Akira himself did not want those sorts of things from their relationship.

Akira opened his eyes slowly, taking a deep breath and wiping the tears from his cheeks. It wasn't so difficult to solve this problem after all.


	12. Love and Prejudice

Waya woke slowly, feeling sluggish and disoriented. He tried to push the blanket off so that he could breathe, but it didn't move. He opened his eyes, irritated and very prepared to rip his bedding apart.

Isumi's sleeping face greeted him, peaceful and…and _way_ too close to his. He realized belatedly that it was not a blanket that kept him from moving, but his friend's arms that were firmly wrapped around him.

He felt the panic starting, and just as he was about to start struggling, Isumi's blue eyes opened and focused on him.

"Waya," the other boy murmured huskily, smiling slightly.

It was a strange smile, one he'd never seen on Isumi before. One that had no business being directed at Waya. It was a _sexy_ smile.

"Oh, look, Isumi – we left the T.V. on. I'll just go and—"

Isumi pushed him back down gently. "No, Waya, that's not important."

Somehow one of Isumi's hands had made it up to cup his cheek, and seemed as though it would be staying there. "I-isumi, can I get up? This is really too much friendly contact for me all at once, you know? I know you're trying to desensitize me, but going too far will have the opposite effect, right?" He was about to have an anxiety attack.

Intense, darkening blue eyes regarded him more closely. "Are you…afraid, Waya? Why would you be afraid of me?" Isumi's gaze remained very warm. A finger stroked across Waya's cheek, sending a jolt through him.

He jerked, unable to stop himself. He desperately wanted to slide out from under Isumi, to get away from here. He sensed that it was imperative that he do so immediately, otherwise…_something_ would happen, something bad.

"I-I just…don't want to be touched anymore, Isumi. I'm ready to go home."

Isumi looked wounded. "Waya…you've stayed over with me so many times. Don't be like this."

The dark-haired boy suddenly employed his other hand in stroking Waya's neck. From there it slid into his hair, massaging his scalp.

"_Mm…_no! Stop it, Isumi." Waya tried to twist away.

"Stop running away from me," came Isumi's hot, whispering breath right into his ear.

Waya gasped, back arching slightly. "I think—I think we need to reconsider this friendship! I'm not so sure that it's a good idea for us to continue being friends, Isumi." His heart was pounding like a rabbit's.

The silence stretched out for so long that he turned his head back to look up at Isumi. He had only a split second warning of something in Isumi's eyes before the other boy's lips were on his, working his mouth open.

"Mmph! Isu—_Isu—_" A tongue slipping into his mouth silenced his attempts at speaking.

Waya felt a violent shudder race throughout his body, and then a sweeping hot and cold feeling – a jolt that seemed to dislocate his soul and disconnect him from reality.

_Bad…this was **bad**!_ But he gasped and arched into Isumi without conscious thought, kissing the other boy back aggressively. He felt hands under his shirt, parting his shirt, sending tingles all across his torso and down into more sensitive areas. Stomach muscles clenching as Isumi's light touch swept over him, Waya turned his head away and broke the kiss.

"No…_no…_Isumi, this is wrong—" His friend's mouth descended on his throat, hot and wanting. Waya gasped, and cut off the mewl of pleasure that was trying to work its way past his lips. "_Ah…god, Isumi…_**stop**!"

Isumi pinned Waya's restraining hands back, blue eyes blazing into his. "If you want me to stop, hurt me. Bite me. Kick me. You can do whatever you like, Waya, but I can't let you run away when I know you're not coming back. _I can't. _I'll do _anthing_, whatever it takes to keep you here." Isumi's face pinched, then crumpled, and tears were suddenly falling on Waya's neck.

Waya closed his eyes, feeling frightened. Afraid of that desperate look that Isumi was giving him right now. The other boy collapsed on him, sobbing into his neck.

"Waya…_Waya…_don't leave me…"

Those heartbroken, whispered pleas were making _him_ cry. He felt tears begin rolling down his cheeks, over Isumi's hand that still cupped his cheek. "Please, Isumi, don't do this to me," Waya whispered back. "I can't…I can't _do_ this."

"It can't be that bad for you, can it? You seemed as though you liked it—"

He felt lips on his again and tried not to yield, tried to be strong, but Isumi knew him too well and made him gasp with more of those feathery touches, thus offering his friend the access he desired.

The second kiss was _worse._ Things tightened inside of him, and a heavy and urgent warmth had infused his body, its center between his legs.

Was he _gay_, as queer as Hikaru and Touya acted? Had _they_ lain on a couch kissing like this, _feeling_ like this? He didn't want this! He was _normal_, not bad, so why was this happening? Why was he lying here beneath Isumi, crying and gasping?

Did he truly _want_ this? Was it just his body being confused, misunderstanding these touches? Did his body think that this was love? How ridiculous, it wasn't possible for two boys to truly love each other. After all, did he _really_ want—

An image unfolded in his mind of what would happen if he let this progress, just to satisfy the animal urges of his body. He knew enough to know the mechanics of it, but the movie they had watched earlier had filled in any blanks he might have had. After his clothes were off, while he was wrapped deeply in Isumi's embrace, the other boy would—would…_enter him…_

Waya cried out into Isumi's mouth, his hips pushing up into the other boy's, the touches and the things he had just imagined combining into a burning passion, a fierce desire. His tears flowed more freely as he noted the effect his imaginings had provoked within his body. He _ached_ for Isumi, could think of nothing but being beneath his friend without clothes, letting the dark-haired boy take him. It was the most intimate thing he could imagine, and if this was where his body so desperately wanted to go, would it hurt to let it happen once? Just this physical thing to satisfy his body's needs? They wouldn't need to let anyone else know, and he trusted Isumi to keep secrets.

He opened his mouth wider, inviting the other to more intimacy, and slowly spread his legs to allow Isumi's weight to settle on him properly.

The other pro paused in kissing him, pulling back a little to look searchingly into his eyes. "Waya?" he asked tentatively, desperately.

Waya only looked back at Isumi, recalling all the good times between them, all the laughter, all the kind things that this boy had done for him. Without looking away from that questioning gaze, he freed a wrist from Isumi's grasp and reached down between them to undo the fastenings of their slacks.

Isumi gasped, looking down in shock, then glanced back at his face. "Wa-waya??"

* * *

Isumi stared down at Waya's flushed face, noting the smoldering look the other boy was giving him with those amber eyes. 

Could it be possible for a struggling and terrified Waya to suddenly become…willing? The thought made his heart race. He had wanted this for _so_ long. So close to the other boy, yet unable to take him into his arms. Unable to kiss him.

The noises that Waya had been making had aroused him to a fever pitch, and he could barely stand it. When he had felt the other's legs shift to accommodate him, he had almost started crying all over again.

Releasing Waya's wrists, he stroked the other boy's face. "Waya?"

As soon as Waya's hands were freed, he took Isumi's hand in his and slid it down his body – and underneath his boxers.

He gasped. Waya was _quite_ aroused, contrary to what he had imagined. The other boy's eyes had closed as soon as Isumi's hand touched him there, a fresh blush burning across an already flushed face.

"Mmm…._ah_…Isumi…are we going to…?" Amber eyes opened halfway to look up at him. Waya's voice was low and husky, and sounded painfully sexy to Isumi.

He didn't need to be prompted a second time. He wrapped his fingers around Waya and began stroking him, earning a sharp cry and fingers gripping at his back. Isumi nipped at the side of the other boy's neck, intent on making him want this so much that there would be no turning back, no reconsidering.

Waya was breathing a low litany of moans into his ear, body moving slowly against his. Isumi was not fooled by the slow pace. He knew that in a moment, the other boy's body would welcome his.

"Wait a moment, Waya, I need to get something." He got up, going to the bathroom.

"Ahh…?" the other boy responded with confusion, gazing after him with eyes that were almost unfocused.

Isumi took the tube of lubricant from under the sink and returned to the couch, setting it down on the floor within easy reach. He leaned over Waya, pulling his pants and boxers down and casting them aside, leaving the auburn-haired boy naked but for his open shirt.

"Isumi, what—" Sense was returning to those eyes, a touch of fear. That had to be taken care of.

He knelt without responding and took Waya's hips in his hands, leaning down simultaneously to take Waya into his mouth.

The other boy cried out sharply, hips bucking, and grabbed at the couch in a vain attempt to ground himself against the feeling.

Isumi smiled and took more of Waya into his mouth, working to bring his beloved greater pleasure. But not _too_ much. He released his friend after a moment.

He had brief concerns about this being too much too soon, but if he didn't go all the way with this tonight, he might not have a second chance. And if Waya didn't have anything to remember feeling…if they didn't properly consummate…the other pro might convince himself that it was a mistake, or just some strange, inexplicable event to be forgotten quickly.

He did _not_ want Waya capable of forgetting _anything_ about this night.

Isumi shucked off his own slacks and boxers, then opened the tube of lubricant and squeezed a liberal amount onto his fingers. When he reached for Waya, the auburn-haired boy gave him wide eyes and shied away a little.

"What…what's that?"

"Just to help us a little," he reassured.

He gently massaged Waya's entrance and the other boy cried out, tossing his head. "Isumi!"

"That's not so bad, right?" he murmured, slowly easing a finger into the slender body before him.

"Ahh….AH! Isu…Is…" Waya's attempt at speech dissolved into moans, and the boy threw his head back against the couch cushions.

Isumi leaned close to kiss the other boy's face, working his way over to gently claim that gasping mouth. He knew intuitively not to tell Waya he loved him…not this first time. It would be too much for his friend to accept.

While Waya was thrashing, he had added a second finger, and now had slowly worked his soon-to-be-lover up to a third. He was surprised to note that the auburn-haired boy seemed to have no pain, just perhaps some slight initial discomfort.

Isumi drew back to look down upon one very affected Waya. One very loved Waya. One very beautiful and desirable Waya, panting away thanks to his touch.

"Nnn…Isumi…" Waya opened his eyes, turning a pleading look on Isumi.

He smiled and scooped his friend up, depositing him gently on the carpeted floor. "It will be easier here." There was no way he was going to try doing this for the first time on a narrow couch.

Isumi applied lubricant to himself while Waya watched, blushing harder under the other boy's gaze. He had been planning for this for so long, wondering if he would always be prepared in vain. But even though they were here like this now, and soon to break down the last barrier between them, nothing was for certain, and he had no idea what would happen after this.

With that in mind, he pinned Waya down and entered him with painful slowness, monitoring his partner's reactions. The slowness of it all was driving him crazy, and he was close to the edge himself, but the last thing he wanted was to hurt this person that was so precious to him.

The thought that Waya might _leave_ him, even after this…sent fresh tears coursing down his cheeks. He did not want to lose this person. He would do anything not to lose this person beneath him, this person in whom he was now completely held.

He smiled tenderly as he saw that tears were running down Waya's cheeks, too. Those eyes opened to look up at him, and fingers dug into his arms.

"Move!" Waya cried, arching into him.

Isumi complied, lowering himself so that he could embrace Waya while they made love. He increased the pace gradually, treasuring every sound the other boy made for him, and there were quite a lot of them. He etched the moment into his memory so that he would always remember this as if it had just happened. Isumi lost his ability to restrain his passion as he felt the crushing of his heart. He drove harder into Waya in response to the pain.

Waya clung even more tightly to him, crying out repeatedly as if each thrust were assailing his heart. "Isu…kiss…" the auburn-haired boy forced out.

"Happy…to…" Isumi replied, kissing his partner deeply. He explored every corner of Waya's mouth, savored the taste of him, and vowed to remember all of it.

The other pro began making urgent little noises, body stiffening.

"It's…okay…please, Waya…I want you to feel this _so_ much…that you scream…" His own body had nearly come to the end of its endurance, tried as it was by the tight embrace of his beloved partner's body and the lovely friction between them.

Waya suddenly broke the kiss, breathing hard, and started thrashing violently in Isumi's arms. "_IS-U-MI!"_ his friend cried loudly, bucking over and over.

The amber-eyed boy's body clamped down on him forcefully, and he gasped, unable to hold out any longer. His vision went white, and he found himself biting down on Waya's shoulder as he cried out his own release. '_I love you…I love you…I love you!'_ he thought fiercely as the body of his partner cradled him through the crushing waves of passion.

Isumi lay panting on Waya for a moment, completely oblivious to his surroundings…until Waya's cell phone rang.

Waya reached out and dragged his pants close, pulling the cell out of the pocket and pressing the 'answer' button. "Hmm, Hikaru? What…what's up?"

Even to a disoriented Isumi, the other boy's voice sounded breathless and husky.

"What do you mean why? I don't…sound strange. 'Course it's not a b-bad time."

Isumi didn't miss Waya's stutter and the tremulous quality of his voice.

"Sure, we can hang tomorrow…mmm….'kay, bye." Waya hung up and tossed the phone away.

"Is everything okay with Hikaru? Isn't it close to midnight? He doesn't usually—"

"Isumi," Waya whispered.

He tensed, warned by the quality of the whisper, and propped himself up on his forearms to examine the other boy's face. "Yes"?

Waya looked frightened, his eyes averted…and ashamed. "What did we just do?"

"We made love," Isumi answered matter-of-factly.

Those amber eyes suddenly fixed on him, glared at him. Challenging him. "Is that what we did? Wasn't it just sex? It's just sex, Isumi, just a physical thing, because two boys can't l-love each other."

Isumi blinked, completely taken aback. Their bodies were still warm from their lovemaking, and Waya wanted to denounce it all as some sort of animalistic rutting without emotion. He thought he'd been prepared for some sort of negative response, but he wasn't prepared for that.

"I care very much for you, Waya," Isumi said carefully.

"I care about you, too, Isumi, but…please…get out of my body." The last was said in a pained whisper. Waya's expression was tormented, embarrassed.

"You seemed to like having me there well enough five minutes ago," Isumi whispered back, tears welling in his eyes even as anger kindled in his heart.

"You _did _things to me, things that made it impossible to think, and now I've gone and done something bad." The accusatory tone, the child-like look…

He didn't know which to believe, or which to respond to. "Waya! It was not _bad_. Stop acting as if I've perpetrated some grievous crime upon your person."

Waya pushed him, trying to get out from under his body. "Do you have to make this worse than it already is??"

"Waya!!" he exclaimed, heartbroken. But Isumi withdrew, kneeling on the floor between the other boy's feet.

His lover leapt up immediately, snatching clothing up and dressing at top speed. "I need to go, Isumi."

"When will I see you again?" he asked desperately, getting to his feet.

Waya paused to look at him, eyes scanning his nude body almost helplessly. "I…I don't know."

"Waya!" Isumi reached out to grab the other pro's wrist, but Waya dodged and ran out the door. The only way he could follow would be to run out naked, but chasing his friend, and in such a flamboyant fashion, would only make things worse.

He closed and locked the door behind Waya and stood in the center of the living room, staring at the floor. He should probably take a shower. He should probably call Hikaru to ask about meeting up tomorrow, but that might push Waya away even further if Isumi showed up uninvited.

So he did the only thing that he could. Isumi sat down on the floor and cried, great sobs forcing their way out of his throat.

"Waya…_please…_" he whispered to the carpet, clenching his fists. "I thought it was _all right_. Please don't—" he choked and broke off in a fit of sobbing, feeling suffocated by his tears.

More than anything, more than Go, more than life, he wanted and needed Waya. But all he could do was wait on the other boy's decision. Isumi was utterly helpless.


	13. Stalking Isumi

Hikaru walked past endless shining storefront windows, navigating the crush of humanity in the mall with only half of his attention. The other half was bent on Waya stalking beside him.

"Do these people look too happy to you?" Waya was grumbling.

"Ah…not particularly." Ever since he'd picked the other boy up, he had been subjected to this attitude and simmering anger. He was afraid to ask what was wrong, especially since Isumi was strangely absent.

Their phone call last night had been very strange, as well. He'd almost suspected that Waya was in the _middle_ of _something_. Waya, of all people, who had never dated anyone, nor cared to date anyone! The auburn-haired boy didn't like most people well enough to speak to them, let alone date them.

The other thing that really tipped him off to a deep disturbance within his friend was that he had chosen to wear muted colors, and there was not a hint of camouflage in anything Waya had on. It ought to have been amusing, but to him it seemed a clear indication that Waya might actually be depressed.

Not that he blamed Waya. It seemed to be going around lately. He was rather depressed himself. He hadn't heard from Akira yet, and he'd already left a slew of messages, half of them full of apologies. He'd even been hung up on a few times. He planned to call again when he got home. And if that didn't work…

"Hikaru, look!" Waya suddenly gripped his arm, startling the hell out of him.

He followed Waya's pointing finger and saw Isumi standing inside of a nearby perfume shop with a slender, dark-haired girl. The two seemed to be joking or bantering by their expressions and brief bursts of laughter. Isumi was holding a bottle and gesturing dramatically.

Hikaru grinned, having never really seen Isumi relax enough to be silly. "Great! Let's go say hello—" He began to walk towards the two, but Waya's grip tightened and yanked him back.

"No! It's obvious that he's on a _date_ or something." Waya's tone sounded like acid mixed with ground up glass.

He blinked, staring intently at the other boy. Those amber eyes were practically burning holes through the glass where they focused on Isumi – as if no one else existed. Waya's lips were drawn back slightly, exposing his teeth.

"Waya? Are you…are you okay?" He was afraid to ask, but it seemed pertinent. He'd never seen this kind of intensity from his irascible friend before.

Waya whipped a sharp scowl on him before turning back to stare at Isumi some more. "Of course, why would you ask something stupid like that? I'm not going to get upset just because my friend has a girlfriend. What do you think I am, some sensitive, whiny emo boy?"

Hikaru frowned. "Hey! I _like_ emo."

"You really shouldn't say things like that, Hikaru. It just reinforces your gay image."

"Waya! People can like emo and not be gay—" He was about to favor the other boy with one his rare rants when he was sharply interrupted.

"He _bought_ it _for_ her!"

Hikaru blinked, thrown off track. "What?"

"The perfume! He bought a gift for her! How much do you suppose that cost? How long do you think they've been dating? I've never seen her before. Is it an anniversary gift?" Waya's fists were clenched, and he was biting his lip. He still looked angry, but something else trembled around the edges of the anger, almost as if the auburn-haired boy were a heartbeat away from crying.

"Look, why don't we just talk to them?" Now he was _convinced_ that something was very wrong inside of Waya.

"_No!_ Let's just follow them."

"Waya, that's _weird_, why would we do that? It's not as if we're strangers."

"Why are you arguing with me? Why can't you just go along with me like a real friend is supposed to?" Waya gave him a peculiarly intense look, and he had the chance for a better look at that trembling quality.

Beneath the anger, there was grief in those amber eyes.

"Of course I'm your friend, Waya, and we'll do whatever you need to do—"

"What is this about?" Isumi's voice interrupted smoothly and somewhat sternly.

Both he and Waya gasped, whirling to face Isumi where he had emerged from the store, girl in tow.

"None of your business!" Waya shot back, glaring Isumi down.

Isumi's blue eyes were dark as they took in Waya's stance and expression. "Is that so?"

"Who's that?" Waya snapped, gesturing at the girl.

"If your life is none of my business, then _mine_ is none of _yours_. And if you're going to be like this, I have no need to speak with you. I certainly have other people in my life that behave more kindly towards me."

Isumi turned away, cupping his female companion's elbow and turning her away with him. He murmured a few words to her as if reassuring her, then steered her back into the main flow of mall traffic.

Hikaru glanced at Waya. The other pro was markedly more disturbed now, fighting against some powerful emotion as they watched Isumi walk away.

* * *

Waya was trembling so violently he thought that passerby must be able to hear his teeth chattering. He was about to burst into tears, or insanity, or something equally bad to give into in public or around friends.

Isumi had _never_ dismissed him before. Had never given him such a cold, closed look in all the years they'd been friends. It had always just been the two of them. He'd never had competition for Isumi's smile.

As he watched other boy walk away with his girlfriend, he felt strangled by panic, rage and pain. He didn't understand half of the feelings that were throttling him, making him feel as if he were going into emergency melt-down mode. He wanted to run after them and hit Isumi. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw the girl through the nearest storefront glass. He wanted to throw his arms around the taller boy and beg for forgiveness, cry into that sure and comforting shoulder.

Revolting. Perhaps his mind had been corrupted by what they had done…last night. He tried not to think of it, for it just seemed to squeeze his throat even more tightly. But if Isumi was determined to slip away from him…would that not lure him back? It seemed to be what the dark-haired boy wanted.

If sleeping with Isumi would cement their friendship again, would it be worth it? If it would drive away his competition for the other boy's affection, would it be worth it? It certainly hadn't been unpleasant, just…_bad_. But it had felt so good.

He vowed to never admit such out loud, but in his secret inner world, he could. No one else would know. But Waya knew, which still made it something horrible. He had done something horrible, and he was thinking of doing it again just to save his friendship with Isumi.

Isumi was slipping away from him.

"…Waya!!"

"What?" Hikaru's voice and touch on his arm snapped him out of his thoughts and he realized he had been staring vacantly after Isumi for several minutes. The other boy wasn't even in sight anymore.

"You were completely out of it. What's going on with you? Please tell me if something is wrong. I'm _worried_ about you. First you're enraged, then you look like someone died on you…"

Waya looked into Hikaru's concerned green eyes, noting the furrowed brow and his friend's sincerity. "Thank you, Hikaru. But Isumi and I are just arguing right now, that's all. Everything will be fine."

Everything _had_ to be fine. He had never truly thought of what his life would be like without Isumi being a part of it. A large part of it. It made him feel chilled and panicked all over again.

Hikaru sighed, as if sensing he had been lied to. "Well, just so long as you're okay…"

"What about you, Hikaru? You've been rather off lately."

The bleach-banged boy blushed slightly, glancing off to the side with eyes both desperate and anguished. "I'm fine. Really fine."

Waya sensed something in Hikaru's attitude that made him ask, "Where's Touya?"

Hikaru glanced up sharply with wide eyes, looking like a deer in headlights. "I…don't know. Home, I guess."

"Hm." He couldn't bear to think about Isumi or Touya anymore. "Let's go to the record store. I want to buy things. Now."

* * *

Isumi saw his cousin off and went upstairs to his apartment, sighing as he entered the dark, lonely space. He'd been out longer than he'd intended, and it was now the late afternoon was fading into evening. 

He dropped his bags on the floor to one side of the couch and removed his shoes, heading straight for the shower. As he removed his clothes and stepped into the shower stall, he noticed that the tile was still slightly damp, which was extremely strange. He had taken a shower early this morning, so the tile should have been dry.

With a shrug, he went on about taking his shower, and his thoughts turned back to his encounter with Waya at the mall. It had not gone well, nor even as he'd intended. That demanding, arrogant attitude of Waya's had set him right off. After the way he'd been rejected last night, he didn't think the other boy had any right to demand anything. Why did Waya care, anyway?

He was sure that it was simply a territorial behavior on Waya's part. Waya was used to having Isumi all to himself; thus the amber-eyed boy had a greater attitude problem than usual on discovering that his friend could spend time with other people. Typical.

Isumi left the shower and dried off, hanging his towel back on the rack to dry. He turned the light off and went to his dresser to find something to wear. His back was turned to the bed, so when he heard the faintest murmur of fabric, he had only a moment to wonder and begin to turn before arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

He gasped, heart rate accelerating violently in fear until he identified the person behind him by feel, scent and lack of clothing. It was _Waya's_ cheek that was suddenly laid against his shoulder blade.

Isumi was more than a little shocked. He turned within Waya's embrace, catching the other boy's wrists to remove his arms, but as he looked down, those amber eyes turned up to gaze into his…and he froze.

Waya's eyes were intense and full of heat, seeming to burn all the more brightly in the dimness. But there was such vulnerability in them, such grief, such determination.

The other boy pressed his naked body against Isumi's, freeing his arms to embrace once again.

Isumi gasped, closing his eyes, and felt Waya's face turn into his chest. He had intended to order the amber-eyed boy out immediately, to push him away, but instead felt his arms returning Waya's embrace. He sensed that the other boy sought reassurance from him, and the fact that his friend was here like this, vulnerable and seeking _his_ embrace, of all things…

"I love you, Waya," Isumi whispered into the auburn hair right below his chin, inhaling the warm, sweet scent of his own shampoo and soap that Waya had apparently used not too long ago.

Waya trembled against him, but didn't say anything. That pale face turned up to him again in the darkness, eyes closed, mouth offered to accept his kiss.

"Waya," he whispered again, tears stinging his eyes. Tenderly, he touched his lips to the other boy's.

Waya's arms slid up and around his neck, pulled him closer. The auburn-haired boy strained against him, deepening the kiss abruptly, almost as if he were desperate to be close to Isumi.

He had never suspected before they had known each other like this that Waya was so passionate. He had thought that all of the other boy's intensity was wrapped up in biting humor and a prickly attitude.

Isumi found himself being tugged towards the bed and pushed down on it by Waya, and was slightly amused by how aggressive the other boy was. Some part of him was full of joy and exhilaration, for he'd never thought that he would have another chance to be this intimate with his Waya.

Waya rushed down on top of him, conforming to every curve of Isumi's body with his. It made their bodies almost as one.

"Who was she?" Waya whispered into his ear, sharp little teeth nipping the side of Isumi's neck.

"Who?" he responded dazedly, pulling Waya tightly against him. All he could concentrate on was here in his arms, his dearest dream.

"The girl you were with!" Waya growled, biting his throat.

Isumi bit back a moan, fingers curling into the other boy's shoulders. "It doesn't matter," he breathed.

Waya's face was suddenly close to his, amber eyes shining strangely. "Yes it does! Why won't you tell me?"

His desire was making it difficult to think, but it seemed to him that his friend was rather upset about something. Was Waya actually jealous of his cousin? Waya would never say anything about love, and the way the other boy had reacted to their first lovemaking, as well as things the other had said, told him very clearly that Waya did not believe in love between boys. But if that was the case…

"What if she's my girlfriend?" he tested, watching those amber eyes closely.

Waya tensed up immediately and closed his eyes, and Isumi felt moisture hit his face. The other boy's body shook with some kind of tremor.

"Waya?" Isumi murmured, awe-stricken. Were those _tears_ hitting his face? He reached up, intending to gently wipe them away, but those eyes opened and caught him, and Waya grabbed his wrist.

"Is she?" Waya whispered harshly, grip almost painfully tight on Isumi's wrist. Amber eyes blazed into blue with a complex array of emotions.

"Why do you care, Waya, since you've said many times that boys can't love each other, and what we're doing is just sexual?"

"_**Is she**!!_" Waya cried, shaking Isumi's captured wrist violently. Waya then collapsed on him, shaking with what were undeniably silent sobs of anguish.

Isumi stared down at Waya with pure shock. He had _not_ expected that reaction. A stronger rejection, maybe. But not this sobbing, this breaking down.

Suddenly Waya's lips were on his again, forcing his mouth open. The other boy kissed him aggressively, passionately, as if trying to steal his soul.

He shuddered, reacting helplessly to the onslaught. He suspected that his lips might be bruised later, but he wasn't capable of caring, or even saying anything to Waya. He didn't want to say anything against that passion, say anything that might make the other boy pause or let up. He wanted _all_ of this, all of his Waya.

He wanted Waya to love him.

Waya drew back, the tears on his cheeks shining in the dim light from the window. The pain and torment were plain in his expression at that moment, if the tears weren't enough of an indication.

Isumi's heart felt as though it were being pressed for preservation, so great was the weight upon it. He couldn't torment Waya like this. "She's just my cousin," he said softly to those desperate eyes - against his better judgment.

Reassuring Waya would undoubtedly only lead to more pain for him, since the other boy would be confident that there was no competition. Waya could continue to lead him on, toy with him or whatever else he felt inclined to do.

Waya seemed to be relieved and kissed him with renewed vigor. "I want to be…friends again," he breathed between kisses.

"_You're_ the one that always runs away," Isumi replied, reaching one hand up to caress Waya's cheek.

"I'm here _now_." Waya's expression was pained and slightly defensive, but his voice was tremulous.

"You are. But why?"

Waya made a dismissing noise, reaching down to stroke the insides of Isumi's thighs.

He clenched his jaw, trying to retain some shred of rational thought. He was certain that this was a distraction technique, meant to keep him from questioning his friend.

"Isumi…I…_want_ you…" Waya moved against him sensuously, fingers trailing up his thighs and over more sensitive areas of Isumi's body.

_Must think!_ He arched into the caress, a breathy moan slipping past his defenses. "Why are you doing this?" he forced out.

Waya paused. "Don't you want it?"

Graceful fingers coasted over Isumi's stomach, tormenting him. "Mm…ah…of course, but I'm inclined to question your behavior since—"

"Don't you love me, Isumi? Didn't you say that?" Waya's expression was tender, doubting.

Isumi blushed, looking away. "Of course I said that. I have for some time."

Waya leaned close, gently turning Isumi's face back to his. "Then _do_ this for me. Let's be friends, please. I _need_ us to be friends."

"We _are_ friends. You're the one that was thinking about dissolving our friendship, remember? But our making love isn't really part of friendship. It's _beyond_ friendship."

"We're not making love!" the auburn-haired boy exclaimed violently. "It's just sex, sex between friends!"

Isumi stiffened and opened his mouth to argue, but Waya used one hand to cover his mouth and touched him with the other, kissing down his torso. His thoughts melted away again, overpowered by the way he felt when the other boy was intimate with him.

It hurt to hear Waya say that, even though he knew that the other boy was only saying what he thought.

_But I want it to be love,_ Isumi thought, tears welling in his eyes again. He cried out as he was suddenly taken into Waya's mouth. The other boy's hand slipped away from its guardianship of his mouth, trailing down to take hold of Isumi's hip.

Isumi reached down to grip Waya's narrow shoulders, unable to tear his eyes away from the other boy's face. The amber eyes were closed, but the expression on his friend's face was intense and complex, one part pain, one part pleasure and one part something mysterious and exposed.

_I love you so much, you wretched boy,_ Isumi thought fervently, smiling even as tears escaped to roll down his face.

Why did he always end up crying when Waya touched him? It was slightly embarrassing, but the other pro didn't seem to mind.

Finally, he closed his eyes and laid his head back, allowing himself to relax into the moment. It was pointless to fight Waya, or to try to discern the other boy's motives if his sometimes-lover refused to share.

He could only accept what Waya offered.


	14. The Wrong Way

Akira wished that he had more of Hikaru around him. But all he had were the games they had played and the voice sample on his palm pilot. Somehow he didn't have any photos of the other boy. It amazed him that, despite their closeness these past several years, he did not have notes from Hikaru, or even a photograph of the two of them.

It was something that he would rectify as soon as he escaped confinement. _If_ his father ever allowed him to leave the house again.

Without his phone, he had no idea if Hikaru had attempted to get in touch with him after that first call, or if the other boy was okay. It had been three days, and he was on the verge of sneaking out through his window.

Suddenly, something thumped against the side of the house to the right of his window, scaring the life out of him. He leapt out of his desk chair, moving to look cautiously out of the window.

Hikaru was perched on top of the wall surrounding their yard, a baseball in his hand. He waved as he spotted Akira at the window.

Akira opened the window, tense and anxious. "Hikaru!" he called softly. "What are you doing here!"

"You wouldn't answer," his rival replied, expression pinched and unhappy.

"I couldn't – father has my cell. I'm very sorry. I'm grounded."

Hikaru looked indignant. "Are you serious? Why!"

"Shh! Keep it down. Because of what you told Miho! She went to my parents and told them everything."

The other pro gave him a shocked look. "I can't believe she did that."

"Yes, well…hold on, I need to check on my parents." It wouldn't do for his mother to hear something and find out he was talking to Hikaru.

Akira stealthily slipped out of his room, moving down the stairs as silently as possible. He knew that his father was gone until late this evening, but his mother would be sure to be home.

He reached the dining room without hearing anyone else, and noticed a note on the table. Akira scanned it quickly, and felt an overwhelming surge of hope. His mother had gone shopping for the day. He was _alone!_

Akira ran outside and to the side of the house, finding Hikaru. "They're actually _gone._ Come down and come in, quickly! We should be safe for a few hours, at least."

Hikaru gave him a pained smile and hopped down off of the wall. "So you _do_ want to talk to me? Even after all the trouble I've gotten you into?"

Akira paused, meeting Hikaru's sad eyes. "Of course. We need to talk, though."

He led Hikaru back into the house and up the stairs to his room, unable to believe that his parents had actually left him alone for the day.

"So your father has your cell phone?"

"Yes." He closed the door of his room behind them, just to be safe.

"_Great._ That means he must have listened to all the messages I left for you." Hikaru's tone was sarcastic and disgruntled.

Akira froze, turning to face the other boy. "What did you say…Hikaru?"

His friend looked away, blushing a little. "I was…upset. I thought it was you that had hung up on me a few times, and I…I apologized a lot. I was…desperate to talk to you. I might have been…a little distraught."

"Hikaru…did you say anything…unusual?" Akira had a sinking feeling that things would just get worse where the two of them were concerned.

"Ahh…just that I care about you. That you mean more to me than anyone. You know, that sort of thing." The blush had deepened, and Hikaru couldn't seem to bring himself to look at Akira.

Akira sighed, sitting down on his bed. "God, Hikaru! Why do you do this to me? That's just going to make things worse."

Hikaru looked at him then, eyes flashing. "But I was afraid, Akira! I was afraid that you were never going to talk to me again, that we'd never see each other again…there's nothing worse than that!"

He bit his lip, recalling what his father and Miho had said. _Shindou has feelings for you._ Though Hikaru seemed largely unaware of the fact, it was staring Akira in the face at this very moment.

But how could he bring that sort of thing up? And now, of all times? Hikaru looked like hell, as if the other boy hadn't slept or had anything decent to eat in days.

"Are you okay, Hikaru? You don't look so good."

Hikaru laughed a little, running a hand through his bangs. "Not so good? Looking a little sickly, am I? Amari seems to think that I look good enough. She won't leave me alone."

"I didn't mean it that way, Hikaru. Is she still bothering you?" He studied Hikaru carefully, attempting to catch all the nuances of his friend's responses.

Hikaru's lips thinned, expression turning sour. "Oh yes, yes she is. She's desperate for sex or something." The other pro sat down on the bed beside Akira.

"You said that wasn't so bad, didn't you?" he asked. He couldn't help it, even though he knew Hikaru had been under duress last time, lying through that bright smile.

The bleach-banged boy cringed, slanting Akira a betrayed look. "It was horrible. I feel traumatized every time she touches me. She tried to make me touch her, and I couldn't bear it. I don't _want_ it, Akira. I hate it. I'm sick, aren't I?" Hikaru burst into slightly crazed, hysterical laughter, hiding his face in his hands.

Akira remained motionless, shocked. Uncertain of what to do. He wanted to hold the other boy, but he knew that would just invite more misplaced affection from Hikaru. If he added the way his friend behaved towards him to these new confessions, what his father had said was correct. Hikaru probably _did_ have unnatural yearnings towards him.

"What about the other girls?" he prodded gently.

Hikaru's mouth curved into a strange, too-wide grin, though the upper part of his face was still hidden by his hands. "I don't want them, either. I can tolerate the kissing, but the rest of it…I don't want any of it."

This was contrary to all of Hikaru's previous bravado and boasting. "Then who do you want?" Akira asked softly, reaching out to lightly rest his hand on the back of Hikaru's exposed neck.

Even though touching Hikaru was unkind and provocative, he had to know.

The other boy shivered. "I don't…don't…"

"Why do you say you're sick?" Akira murmured.

"Be-because…" Hikaru's voice was a whisper.

Akira moved his fingers in a stroking motion where they rested on the back of Hikaru's warm neck. "Go on…"

The other boy shivered again and suddenly lifted his head, showing Akira frightened and needing eyes. "I can't…"

"Who do you want? Why do you say you're sick?" Akira leaned closer, feeling drawn by something in Hikaru's deep, desperate green eyes.

Hikaru closed his eyes, lips trembling, as though he were trying to save himself from being confronted by something, or shut something out. "Akira…I wanted to be honest…but maybe I should…go…" Hikaru's brows were drawn down in what seemed to Akira a tormented and longing expression.

Saved…Hikaru needed to be saved from something. He could sense it. Hikaru was drowning. He wanted to save him, no matter what it cost.

"Don't cry, Hikaru…" Akira whispered.

Without quite realizing what was happening, he found that his lips were pressed against Hikaru's, his hands cupping the other boy's face as reverently as they would have cupped a handful of Go stones that Shusaku himself had touched.

Hikaru's eyes opened wide with shock, staring into his.

The logic in his mind screamed at him, asking him what he thought he was doing when he had been prepared to _guide_ Hikaru down the correct path, that he'd been set to push the other boy away the next time he was kissed by him. But _he_ was the one kissing _Hikaru._

When they were like this, his heart wasn't aching. Actually, it pained him in an entirely different way, but it was a _good_ way.

Hikaru gasped into his mouth, startled eyes sliding shut, hands coming up to hover near Akira's face before finally sliding into his hair.

Akira closed his eyes tightly at the feeling, Hikaru's hands in his hair making his scalp and his entire body tingle alarmingly. He leaned back until he was lying down, pulling his friend with him.

Wrapping his arms around Hikaru, he realized and acknowledged briefly in the back of his mind that _this_ felt right. And it _terrified_ him more than anything.

Hikaru broke free, breathing hard, his cheeks deeply flushed. "Akira…what…are you trying to do to me?" The bleach-banged boy seemed full of despair, green eyes shimmering with what appeared to be unshed tears, and wouldn't meet Akira's eyes. "You know, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" he whispered dazedly, staring dumbly at the face that he had only just realized was dearest of all to him.

"That…_this_ is why I'm sick. I like _your_ kisses best. Waya's right. I'm not _normal_." Hikaru was chewing hard on his own lip, as if attempting to stay sane.

Akira felt a thrill chase through him at those words…that _his_ kiss was the one that Hikaru wanted. "So _I'm_ the one you want?"

Hikaru closed his eyes again. "Don't torture me, Akira. I…I tried to ignore it, but Amari…made me face it. I can't pretend that it isn't there, anymore."

Akira gripped the other boy's upper arms. "_I'm_ the one you want?" he asked again, more forcefully.

Those green eyes met his at last, bitter and hurting. "Yes," his rival whispered, seeming to wait for some sort of reprisal or punishment.

Akira frowned slightly, also feeling the evidence of Hikaru's desire in other ways. "Very well."

Hikaru stared at him. "What do you mean, 'very well'?"

"Hikaru, I'm afraid that father was right. You _do_ have what he calls 'unnatural tendencies' and maybe even feelings for me."

The other boy looked away, looking ashamed. "Please don't stop being my friend," Hikaru whispered. "I couldn't take that, Akira."

"I will always be your friend, Hikaru," Akira reassured his friend, smiling slightly. He could help Hikaru this way. "I will be here for you through this."

Things could still be salvaged. He could still steer this the right way, despite his own bizarre behavior. Akira _would_ do the right thing.

Hikaru drew back a little, looking confused. "What?"

"This isn't the right path, Hikaru." Not for either of them. He couldn't ever imagine facing his father with something like this, but they could stay friends if he could turn his rival's romantic feelings towards an appropriate target.

Hikaru got up, turning away from him. "Akira…why did you kiss me?"

"You seemed like you needed it. But it's not the way for us, Hikaru. You're just confused."

"This is who I am, Akira," Hikaru responded darkly, voice tight with restrained emotion.

"Well, that's fine. If you can't be any other way, that's okay. You're still my best friend, Hikaru."

* * *

Hikaru was shaking, but he tried to remain as still as possible in order to disguise it from Akira. How could he have thought that he could be anything more than a friend to the other boy? If Akira was going to kiss him only because he looked desperate…what kind of horrible pity was that? He didn't want that false comfort.

He was fortunate that Akira still wanted to be his friend. It would be best to simply go home. "I'll give you my cell phone in case you need to reach me while you're grounded."

Hikaru fished the cell out of his pocket and tossed it towards Akira without turning around, not trusting his expressions or his control. He couldn't bear to look into those aqua eyes again.

"Thank you, Akira. See you later."

"Thank you for lending me your cell. Are you certain that you're all right? Hikaru?"

He waved a hand and moved quickly for Akira's bedroom door, needing to leave the house immediately before he disgraced himself by breaking down in the other pro's presence. "Yes, fine, fine."

Hikaru raced down the stairs and burst from the house at practically a run, slamming the front door behind him. He didn't care if Akira saw him running, now that he had broken free from that sweet hell. He could still feel the other boy's arms around him, the closeness that had momentarily lulled him into believing that his friend felt something more than friendship for him.

He kept running, blinded by tears, unable to care that he might hurt himself like this. It didn't really matter anymore. He already felt broken inside, as if some hope that he had been unaware that he was holding had shattered and cut him to pieces.

Hikaru tried to calm himself with the thought that they were still friends. At least there was that. He could still see Akira, still play Go with him and talk to him. They could still hang out if the other pro's parents would stop having their neurotic fits that Hikaru was going to make their son gay. There was no chance of _that_.

Bitter laughter escaped him in bursts with his labored breath. He wondered if there was anywhere that he could hide. Waya would only torment him further. Perhaps he could go to Isumi. He certainly wasn't going to face his mother for longer than it took to pack a bag.


	15. Messages

Akira returned his father's gaze doggedly, trying to maintain an expression of polite surprise.

"Well, son? I'm waiting for a response." His father held out Akira's cell phone towards him as if he expected some other reaction than the one he was getting.

Hikaru had left several hours ago and Akira had hoped that he was done being tormented for the day, but as soon as his father had returned home they'd started a conversation about the messages that Hikaru had left for him.

"I…don't need to listen to them, father." Anything but that.

"Oh, but I think you do. You need to know what you're dealing with." His father pressed a few buttons on the phone, then handed it to Akira.

Dutifully, he took the phone, pressing it to his ear.

"…_have 12 messages…"_

Akira blinked. Hikaru had left him _twelve_ messages over the last several days? Hearing the other boy's voice pulled his attention back to the phone.

"_Akira…I'm at the Go salon, and you're not here. Is everything okay, aside from me being an asshole? You're not avoiding me…right? I guess I'll see you later."_

"_It's me. Again. Want to play Go? If you don't want to leave your place, I'll come to you. That's okay. I understand if you're depressed. I didn't realize that you liked Miho that much…so…call me, okay?"_

"…_Kira…I'm sorry, I know I'm a jerk. I always have been, right?" Weak laughter. "I feel terrible about this. Can't we talk? Message me or something."_

"…_Uh…can you just call back and tell me you want me to leave you alone for a while or something? This silence is freaking me out. I mean, we're still friends. Aren't we? Please call back, Akira. I'll meet you anywhere. I'll buy you dinner. I won't argue with you for a whole week. Come on, whatever you want."_

"_Hey…" Hoarse voice. Sound of hitching breath. "You're really scaring me, Akira. Please pick up the phone. I need to hear your voice. I need to talk to you. **Please.**__" _

Akira held back a wince as Hikaru's voice broke on the last word. This _was_ torture. He could feel his father's sharp eyes boring into his skull as he listened, but he maintained his vacant stare at the floor, as if unaware of it.

_"Well, I guess you're still not answering. I can't say that I blame you. I doubt I'd answer me, either. I miss you…"_

"_You know, it occurred to me that maybe you're angry that I still have a girlfriend after making you lose yours." Brittle laugh. "Well, don't be – I really don't want her. Just say the word and I'll break up with her. Then we'll be even, right? But of course, maybe you cared for yours more…I really do suck, don't I? I don't know why someone as amazing as you has been friends with me for so long, anyhow…"_

"_You…are the most important person to me. I can't live like this. I couldn't stand it if we weren't friends anymore. I know I'm not the most important person to you, so maybe this doesn't matter to you. Maybe you're tired of me. I get it. I'm tired of me, too. But tell me. Please."_

"_Akira…" Whispered._

"_My…my friend. Are you there?" Tremulous voice. "Please forgive me. I'll do anything." Sound of muffled sobs._

Akira finally closed his eyes, unable to refrain from doing so. He was struggling with keeping up the pretense of not caring about the sound of Hikaru falling apart that he cradled to his ear. He could feel tears stinging his own eyes, but forced himself to focus on the kifu he had memorized, attempting to distance himself.

_"You are my most precious person. Akira…oh, god. I can't stand this…I care about you so much…more than anyone. I'm your…your friend first, before anything else, before anyone else. Please forgive me."_

Hikaru's voice was breathy, vulnerable, overflowing with raw emotion. He sounded as if he were pleading with a lover. This must be what his father had wanted him to hear.

_"I…I…" Voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't leave me. I can't live without you."_

Akira pulled the phone away from his ear to stare at it in shock. Hikaru hadn't _said_ that! It almost sounded as if the bleach-banged boy _loved_ him. The other pro had been crying through the last five messages, too.

Discretely, he hit the 'save messages' button. There was no way that he'd delete messages that precious, messages that clearly told him how Hikaru felt about him…both in words, and in the spaces _between_ the words.

Akira felt even worse about what had happened earlier after having heard those messages. He had been cruel to Hikaru. And the shaky stability that he had gained in resolving to 'guide' them both down the right path had disintegrated again.

When he heard that pleading voice…he didn't know what he was doing anymore. What he was feeling. What he was thinking. It was the 'drowning' Hikaru again, the one he couldn't help but respond to.

He dragged his gaze back up to meet his father's, feeling anger start to burn behind his eyes.

"Do you see, Akira? This is what I meant. It's best that you're cutting him off now." His father's expression was stern and arrogant.

"I am _not _cutting him off. I fully intend to remain his friend, and I will continue talking to him and seeing him. All this has done is hurt his feelings and make him miserable. What is productive about that? What good does hurting him do?" Akira had raised his voice slightly, waving the hand with his phone in it sharply.

"Akira! Do _not_ speak to me like that, or you will never leave this house again." Touya Kouyo took a step towards his son.

He scowled back at his father, further angered by the intimidation tactic. "I can always just move out, can't I? I'm not going to torment my best and only friend to make you happy. I'm sorry, father, but I can't do that. I can't hurt Hikaru anymore."

His father's eyes were cold. "Is that so? Ready to move out all on your own? You truly imagine yourself that capable, that independent? And I suppose you'll be Hikaru's slave as soon as you leave this house? Do whatever Hikaru wants, sinking into depravity and shaming your family? Destroying your career?"

Akira clenched his teeth. "No, father, I'll simply live my life on my own without every move being dictated by my family. And I will be friends with whomever I wish, whether or not you approve."

His heart was racing with the terror of defying his father, and his entire body was trembling. But this was something that needed to be done if he was ever going to be seen as an adult. If he was ever going to _be_ an adult.

"Then get out, Akira. If that's how you are. You're an ungrateful and graceless son, and I'm ashamed to claim you as my own blood. Get out of this house, and don't expect any assistance from us." His father's face was flushed with rage, eyes burning.

Akira felt as if someone had poured cold water down the back of his neck. But he would keep his pride, at the very least. "Fine, I'll pack right now." He couldn't believe that this was truly happening to him!

His father stormed out of the room, and Akira turned mechanically to the task he'd been assigned. As he packed, he considered the rashness of his words and actions.

He did not have a car with which to move his belongings, nor did he want to call on Hikaru to help him. Isumi had a car, but he barely knew the other boy and didn't even have his phone number.

But he _did_ have Hikaru's cell, which undoubtedly had the dark-haired pro's number in it. He hated the idea, but he didn't have much of a choice. He would have to ask for Isumi's assistance and promise to repay him.

Akira had also never gone about renting an apartment. Something else he would have to ask Isumi about. Things were continuing to go downhill.

He firmly suppressed the panic that was trying to consume him. He was intelligent and mature, so he could handle this. He just had to have a little confidence in himself…and in Isumi.

Akira picked up Hikaru's little yellow cell phone and selected Isumi's name from the contacts list.

* * *

Isumi slowly put down his cell phone, frowning. How was he supposed to handle this? 

"What? Who was it, Isumi?" Hikaru was lounging on his couch with a bowl of ramen, 'overnight' bag sitting next to the couch.

"It was Touya. He's in a bad situation and needs help."

Hikaru froze mid-bite, green eyes wide and anxious. "What's wrong? What happened? Does he need us?"

"Well, his father is throwing him out. I didn't ask why, but apparently Touya needs to leave _right now_, and he has no way of transporting his belongings without a car. He also needs to find an apartment, and you know that takes a few days. He needs somewhere to stay for a few days, obviously."

The bleach-banged boy stared at Isumi, expression conflicted. "I guess I'll leave, then. I mean, you don't need _two_ people crashing with you for several days and—"

"No you don't! You're staying here. You look like hell, Hikaru, and _I'm_ worried about you. I don't know what's going on with you and Touya, but you're both going to stay here until things have settled down, and that's the last I'm hearing on it."

The other boy shifted uncomfortably and dropped his eyes, gazing into his ramen intently. "You don't look so well yourself, lately. You can talk to me, Isumi."

Isumi snorted. "And _you_ can talk to _me_, but you've been here for a few hours now and haven't said anything remotely serious as of yet."

Hikaru winced, caught. "Yeah, I know. I swear I'll talk, Isumi, I just need some time to calm down. Of course, Akira being here isn't going to help things." The last was muttered under the bleach-banged boy's breath, almost below hearing.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"That's something we'll have to talk about later, I suppose. Let's go rescue Akira."

Isumi sighed, pulling on his shoes. "Are you certain that you should be along for that if there's some sort of conflict between the two of you?"

"Well…maybe not, but don't tell him I'm here, okay?" Hikaru's vibrant eyes were pleading.

"Hmm…if you insist. But no fighting." Isumi paused, then amended, "Well, no fighting that includes yelling or keeping me awake at night."

Hikaru grinned wryly. "I'll try. I can't vouch for _him_, though."

"Okay, stay put. I'll be back shortly. If Waya calls, tell him whatever he wants to know."

"Uh…okay…" Hikaru resumed eating the ramen after arching a brow at Isumi.

Thank goodness Hikaru had come today and not yesterday when he and Waya had…were…well. How awkward would _that_ have been? As it was, his lover had only left this morning.

He had already had a sneaking suspicion that whatever it was that Hikaru needed to talk about would involve Touya, but the last few minutes had confirmed it. He was certain that he knew what it was, just not the details. Things had been heating up between Touya and Hikaru for some time, but since it had been gradual, almost no one had noticed.

Aside from Waya, of course. It was obvious to him now why Waya was so attuned to such things. It stemmed from the other boy's fear of his own feelings that he tried so hard to repress. Isumi had suspected that, too, but not that those feelings were somewhat focused on him.

Hikaru and Touya certainly hadn't done anything else quietly. It was ironic that their feelings for each other had developed that way.

Isumi waved and let himself out, a little worried about what he was getting himself into with letting the both of them stay with him. Well, at least it was a distraction from the miserable drama in his own life.

* * *

Hikaru jumped up like a startled rabbit as the door opened and almost dropped the game controller for Isumi's Playstation 2. He quickly set it down on the couch and turned back to the door. 

Isumi walked in carrying a couple of suitcases, Akira right behind him and demurely protesting the other pro's carrying of the suitcases. "Isumi, you've done enough already, and I can't tell you how much I apprec—"

Akira's aqua eyes met Hikaru's, and the other boy froze, dropping the suitcases he'd been carrying. "Hikaru!" his best friend exclaimed softly.

He smiled and glanced away as he rubbed the back of his neck, his heart aching. "Hey, long time no see, right? Sorry, I had to crash on Isumi, too."

"What—what happened? Did something happen at home?" Akira's eyes searched his urgently, concerned.

Isumi quietly picked up the suitcases Akira had dropped, set them aside and went back outside.

"No, I just couldn't stand being there anymore. I just need to stay with Isumi for a few days. I've been a little…mixed up."

Akira winced, looking pained. "I…I see."

"What happened that you suddenly needed to leave?"

"Well, father insisted that I…father was just trying to control me again and I'm tired of it. That's all. So I told him so, and he told me I could leave."

"God, Akira…that's really harsh. I'm so sorry! Wow…if you need a longer period of time to find an apartment, you can stay with me after Isumi if you want. Mom wouldn't mind."

The other boy smiled faintly. "Ahh…thank you, but I'm hoping to become established as quickly as possible."

"Well, just in case things don't go as you plan…the offer is there."

"Oh, speaking of which…I don't need this anymore." Akira handed him his cell phone.

Hikaru wanted to cringe when he thought about the messages he'd left. "Sorry about those messages that I left on your phone."

"I heard them earlier…father insisted that I listen to them."

He met Akira's eyes, feeling dread gathering in the pit of his stomach, but the other pro held his gaze without flinching or looking perturbed. "I hope you deleted those stupid messages."

"No. They're still here." The other boy's hand slipped inside his pocket to touch the cell phone, seemingly without his realizing it.

"Delete them. I shouldn't have left them." He couldn't stand the thought of Akira listening to recordings of him sniveling and crying.

Akira pressed back against the door, looking slightly defensive. "No, I won't."

"Why not! They're so idiotic!" Hikaru moved forward, reaching towards his friend to get the cell phone so that he could delete the embarrassing messages.

The other pro turned protectively so that the pocket with the cell phone was turned away from Hikaru. "No! Leave it alone, I'll keep them if I want to keep them!" The color had risen in Akira's cheeks, and his aqua eyes were flashing with defiance.

Hikaru felt a pang in his heart and a fluttering in his stomach as he realized all over again how beautiful Akira was. The other boy stared back at him. Determined, he reached his hand around to slip it into his friend's pocket.

Akira gasped, looking startled. "Hikaru! What are you—"

It was obvious that Akira expected something other than his grabbing the cell phone, so he was able to capture it and withdraw before the other realized what was happening.

"_Hikaru!_ Give that back to me! That is _my_ phone. Don't you dare delete my messages!" Akira sounded completely outraged.

"No, these need to be—" A sudden weight knocked him off balance and he crashed to the ground with Akira wrapped around him.

"They're _mine_, and I won't let you take them," the other pro breathed across his lips, eyes a little angry.

He was about to drag Akira down for a kiss, willing or not, when the door opened again.

Isumi stood in the doorway, staring uncertainly. "Er…right. Is everything okay?"

"He tried to delete my messages!" Akira exclaimed dramatically, picking himself up off of Hikaru and smoothing his clothing.

"Ah…Hikaru, leave his messages alone."

"But _I_ left them!" he huffed.

Isumi groaned. "They're _his_ after you leave them on his phone, right? So leave him alone. God, I thought I was going to have to break up a fight or…something."

"There's no 'something'," Akira replied calmly, returning his cell phone to his pocket.

Hikaru tore his gaze away from the aqua-eyed boy's form, firmly reminded of why he was here. "That's right. Nothing."

Isumi glanced back and force between the two of them. "Hmm. Touya, I'll just put these suitcases in the closet for now. The only things left in the car are a couple of boxes of kifu and the computer, so let's go retrieve those."

They left him where he was, but Akira glanced back for a moment to study him where he lay on the floor before shutting the door.

What had _that_ look been? It was almost possessive…or covetous? As if Akira wanted to keep something. To keep him? The image of him? Surely not.

Perhaps they could all have tea, play some Go and actually relax a little. He'd probably get Isumi to himself for a few minutes eventually. He could wait.


	16. It's Getting Crowded in Here!

Isumi sighed and straightened from stowing the suitcases in the closet, stretching his back. "Well, that's the last of it. Did you need anything else, Touya?"

The younger pro shook his head. "No. Thank you for all of this, though. I truly appreciate it."

He shook his head, waving away Touya's earnest look. "It's nothing. Did you want to play a game?"

"I'd love to. It seems that it's just us for now, as Hikaru has become glued to the couch, watching one of those asinine game shows."

Isumi winced, smiling a little. "Waya favors those, too, and I'm not sure why."

"I'll set up the board, if you'd like."

"Thank you, please do. It's over there under the desk. I'll be back in a moment."

Isumi left the room and went into the kitchen, glancing over the bar at Hikaru where he was, sure enough, glued to the couch, staring at the television as if completely entranced by the show that was on. But upon closer inspection, the bleach-banged boy's gaze was vacant and troubled.

Well, he could sympathize, and he'd be sure to force some words out of Hikaru later. He poured himself a generous measure of sake, not particularly caring that it would make his game sloppy and worthless. Typically he was concerned about such things, but he'd not been himself lately. Small wonder.

As he returned to the bedroom, he found that Touya was ready and waiting to begin the game. But as Isumi was settling himself before the board, the other boy's aqua eyes rose to meet his.

"You have many pictures of Waya," Touya blurted out.

Isumi glanced at the corkboard that hung over his desk. There were several pictures of he and Waya carefully pinned to it. "I…do. Yes, I do. Waya is my best friend, after all." He couldn't help but wonder where this was going. He had never known this conservative pro to do or say anything impulsively.

"I don't have any pictures of Hikaru and I, or even of just Hikaru." Touya looked troubled by the admission.

"Why ever not?" Isumi was a little surprised. Hikaru and Touya had been around each other for so long, it did seem strange that there were no pictures of the two of them.

"I don't know. No one ever seems to be taking them."

Isumi smiled and pointed at one particularly silly Waya picture. "I took that one. _You_ have to take the pictures if you want them, Touya."

The younger pro gave him a surprised look. "But that's…strange, isn't it?"

"Not particularly. I've taken lots of Waya pictures, and I've even taken pictures of Hikaru."

Touya leaned forward over the Go-ban, eyes sharpening with interest. "You…you have? You have pictures?"

"Ah…yes. Would you like to look at them?"

The aqua-eyed boy blushed slightly, looking away. "No, no. I don't really…I don't need anything like…"

"Here, I'll take them out and you can look through at your leisure." Isumi then lowered his voice to a whisper as if he were confiding in Touya and said, "You can take whatever you want and I won't tell anyone."

The other boy's head whipped around and he stared at Isumi in surprise.

Isumi smiled, getting up to take a photo album off of the bookshelf beside his desk. He laid it next to Touya, who pretended to ignore its existence.

"I'll be white," Touya murmured, graceful hands methodically removing the lid from his Go-ke, setting it aside and discretely slipping the photo album to the side where it would not be seen by anyone entering the room.

Isumi arched a brow slightly and repressed the urge to smile again. He took another sip of his sake as the other boy made his move and then set it back down on yet another bookshelf to his left.

He had bookshelves wherever he could fit them in his apartment, as he loved to read. Only some of the books were about Go.

He considered Touya's move carefully, then responded with a cautious feint meant to draw the other out. Naturally he would lose against this boy, no matter which tactic he used.

Isumi didn't have as many interests outside of Go as Hikaru and Waya, but he did enjoy and collect music, though he didn't have nearly as many CDs as Hikaru and Waya did. _They_ could start their own record store together. Isumi was mostly interested in the quieter music. Hikaru and Waya often made horrible faces at him about that and argued with each other over which music was the 'best' – Gackt or Luna Sea. He'd had to intervene several times to prevent violence between the two of them.

But there were times when he could get Waya to chill out with him and they'd lie on his floor for hours and listen to classical and other instrumental music together.

Touya responded boldly and Isumi frowned, uncertain as to which tactic he wanted to execute.

The sound of video gaming reached him from the other room. Perhaps Hikaru thought a more mentally active pursuit would spare him. Despite the fact that Isumi wasn't much into gaming, he did have the game system and a few video games. But it was mostly there for Waya and Hikaru.

Isumi was beginning to think that he and Touya had more in common than he'd realized. If he could understand the aqua-eyed pro, perhaps he could help Hikaru out of whatever situation he was in.

Just as he was about to make his move, he heard his cell phone ringing. He excused himself quickly and ran to get it. It was on the end table at the far end of the couch. Startling Hikaru, he lunged for it and answered on the third ring.

"Hello?" he answered, slightly breathless.

"…Did I interrupt something?" Waya asked, tone slightly acidic.

Isumi closed his eyes briefly. "No, of course not. Hold on one moment."

He turned to Hikaru. "I need to go outside for a moment, please excuse me."

"I'm taking a shower, anyway." Hikaru got up with a cheerful smile that seemed forced and ran off to the bathroom.

Isumi sighed and went into the bedroom to excuse himself from Touya. "Touya? I'll be outside for a few, so please excuse me."

The other pro looked up absently. "Mm? Of course."

"Ok, I'll be back."

He crossed back through the living room and let himself out the front door, wishing that he had a balcony out back that he could have a private conversation on. Hopefully this conversation would not be painful, though he feared the worst.

"Ok, Waya, I can talk now."

"Who's there?" the other boy asked, sounding suspicious.

"Just Hikaru and Touya. It's a long story. It seems they're both having issues, and I'm inclined to think that their issues may be related to each other, if you know what I mean." He waited for the exclamations of 'stupid queers' and the like from the other end of the line, but it never came.

After a long pause, Waya spoke again. "Hm, how long are they staying?"

"I don't know, but I hope it won't be more than a few days. It will soon be time to play for titles again. Whatever it is, they need to resolve it fairly soon, otherwise it will be throwing off their games."

"I see. Well, why don't they just do whatever it is they need to do to relieve those tensions, and then forget about it? Their friendship will be better for it." Waya's tone was rational and even.

Isumi gritted his teeth and closed his eyes again. "Have _you_ forgotten about it, Waya?"

There was another long pause, and then quietly, "Yes."

He bit down on his thumb to keep from saying things that he wouldn't be able to take back.

"Are you still there, Isumi?" Waya asked softly.

He released his thumb to answer. "As usual."

* * *

Akira was deep in thought over the last game he had played against Hikaru when he thought he saw a flash of something flesh-colored go past the open bedroom door. He glanced up, frowning, but was not enlightened.

He rose from the floor and moved quietly to peek around the corner.

Hikaru was crouching, back turned to Akira, clothed only in a slipping towel that was wrapped loosely about his hips. Seeing all of that naked back turned towards him and the graceful line of the other boy's spine, he felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, just like it had the few times he'd ridden on roller coasters.

_He wanted a picture of **that**._ Unable to stop staring, it reminded him of when he'd been captivated by Hikaru sprawled on the floor earlier. He'd wanted a picture of _that_ Hikaru, too. His mouth felt dry, and his heart kept speeding up, just as it did when he faced the bleach-banged boy across the Go-ban – except worse.

Would he and Hikaru always be friends? What if they wouldn't be? What if Hikaru was simply just…gone? What would his life be like without moments like these, without yelling at the other boy, without the stupid stunts and that ridiculous hair? There would be no hilarity, no foolishness or absurdity in his life without Hikaru as his friend. There would be none of these frightening moments that made his heart race. No more of those dangerous, confusing kisses.

Hikaru cursed under his breath as he rummaged in his bag, jerking Akira back to the moment. The towel slipped even further before finally falling to the floor, and he thought that his heart had seized. The 'Akira' tattoo on the other boy's right buttock was clearly exposed, and this time he had a good look at it. It was quite beautiful. So was the backside that it had been etched into.

Akira slipped back into the bedroom before Hikaru caught him, swallowing to relieve the awkward tension in his throat. One of his hands was fisted against his chest. He stared at it dumbly before lowering his hand and uncurling the fingers.

He heard the bathroom door close again and assumed that Hikaru had gone back in to get dressed. Both disappointed and relieved, he used the moment of privacy to flip through the photo album Isumi had offered him pictures from.

Glancing up repeatedly between pages, he worked his way through it as quickly as possible. Hikaru flashing a victory sign at the camera. Hikaru having a water fight with Waya. Hikaru and Waya making horrible faces. Hikaru sitting in a lounge chair at the pool with his eyes closed and his sunglasses perched forgotten on top of his head, smiling faintly in his sleep. Akira's fingers paused, and he slipped that photo out of its protective pocket.

He resumed flipping, but didn't find any more that were quite like the one he had chosen. Somewhat dissatisfied, Akira realized that he wanted pictures that _he_ had taken of Hikaru, or vice versa. Private moments, pictures of moments that only the two of them were part of.

Akira frowned, cataloguing the feeling as foreign and counter-productive. He'd been spending too much time around Hikaru. Perhaps his father had been right?

He shook his head. Nothing was worth destroying Hikaru, even if that thing was his own equilibrium. And perhaps…destroying Hikaru would have destroyed something in him, too.

Akira glanced up warily again, and returned the photo album to the shelf it had been taken from. Then, taking care that he remained unobserved, he went into the closet and slipped the photo into the inner pocket of one of his suitcases.

Seating himself before the Go-ban again, he assumed a thoughtful pose and resumed peering at the board as if he were truly lost in strategy.

Moments later, the bathroom door opened and Hikaru came out, making a detour to come into the bedroom.

The bleach-banged boy leaned against the doorframe, bracing himself with one hand. "Hey there…bored?"

Akira pretended that he had only just noticed Hikaru there and glanced up, feigning surprise. "Oh…hello. Well, I was just wondering if I should be replaying another game while Isumi is gone."

Hikaru's hair was still very damp and hung close to his face and neck. The other pro was not wearing a shirt. In fact, the only thing he was wearing were a pair of rather small and insubstantial sports shorts. Hikaru's body was lean and athletic, but not overly muscled.

Akira averted his eyes, feeling choked all over again. Damn these stupid, bizarre reactions!

"It seems like there's something going on with Waya, doesn't it?" Hikaru sounded concerned.

"I wouldn't know. I assume it's usual for Waya and Isumi to talk on the phone."

"It isn't that. They've both been acting really weird lately. Bad weird."

"So have you. That girlfriend is having a painful effect on you, Hikaru. Why don't you just break it off?" He delivered all this with studied nonchalance, hoping that he wouldn't sound too involved or obnoxious.

Hikaru sat down beside him and leaned close. "I'd _love_ to. But you see, Akira, she's very persuasive. She has threatened to spread rumors throughout the Go community about us if I fail to be receptive to her advances. She especially threatened you."

Akira drew back slightly at the other boy's proximity – he was surrounded by the scent of Hikaru's freshly washed skin and hair, and it was disturbing him. "What gave her _that_ idea?" he exclaimed, glancing into the other pro's brilliant eyes – and wishing he hadn't. They were very close to him, reminding him, as they always did, of other times he'd been this close to them. He felt his face flush, and silently cursed his friend in his mind.

Hikaru looked pained before his gaze dropped to the stones. "Only what she'd seen of us interacting, and the fact that I wouldn't really respond to her."

"No one would believe her. She's not a pro."

"But what if they _did_? You can't do anything besides be a professional Go player. It's in your blood. You _live_ for it, and I need to be there to play you." Hikaru's gaze came back to his, dark and melancholy.

He felt the flush creep through the rest of his body. "Why do things have to be so complicated?" Akira muttered, raising a hand to rub lightly at his temple.

"I don't know, Akira…I don't know." Hikaru sighed and closed his eyes, hanging his head.

Akira stared at the dark and light strands mixing and felt the misplaced urge to run his hand through it, to feel the warmth of Hikaru's neck under his fingers.

"But I have an idea," the other pro continued, lifting his head to gaze directly into Akira's eyes. "I figure that I can break up with Amari if I have an alibi of sorts for my affections. If I find some guy to date, I can claim that Amari is sadly deluded, that I've loved this guy for ages and that you're not involved at all. With a set-up like that, no one would believe that Touya Akira could ever be involved, despite the fact that you lost Miho and aren't dating anyone else right now. All you'd have to do is deny it, which would be fairly easy for you, since you've never felt like that about me, anyway."

He found himself staring again. Sad. It was becoming a habit. "Right…easy." Easy to deny that he cared about Shindou Hikaru, the person his life had revolved around for years. The person that made him experience these awkward, less-than-pleasant moments of near heart failure.

Some other 'guy'? Some random person with Hikaru? The idea made him feel uneasy, but he wasn't certain as to why it should. It would be good for Hikaru to focus on someone more appropriate, someone that could return those attentions and feelings.

"Are you taking a shower?" Hikaru asked, voice somewhat husky.

"What?" He met Hikaru's eyes and his voice died in his throat. It was a _look_. A kiss look, if he wasn't mistaken.

"A…shower. Are you taking one?" Those green eyes were dark and sexy, lids lowered as the other boy's gaze caressed his face.

His heart leapt into his throat and…he couldn't breathe. Hikaru leaned in closer, hot breath on Akira's lips.

Akira leaned back instinctively, stomach fluttering with heat, fear and…anticipation?

The other pro's tongue lightly touched his lips just then, and he felt his arms give out, sending him sprawling onto his back on the floor. He knocked the Go-ke over on his way down, sending stones everywhere.

Before he could blink, Hikaru was above him, face drawing close to his again. Akira gasped, turning partially into the floor so that the other pro was presented with his back. Apparently unperturbed by this, his rival went for the back of his neck, and he felt the wet heat of Hikaru's tongue against his skin.

Akira shuddered, unprepared for the feelings that such an intimate caress sent tearing through his body. But one thing was clear to him. It scared the hell out of him, as usual. He tried to protect his neck, but it was no use. Hikaru was alternating between using tongue and teeth, and was pushing aside his hair to get more access.

"Stop!" he breathed into the floor. That would never do. He tried again. "Shindou, stop it!"

The boy braced above him froze, and Akira could hear his breath coming hard and fast. Then Hikaru made a choked sound and the weight of his friend's body was removed from his. Slowly, Akira turned over to look up at Hikaru where he was kneeling beside him.

Hikaru's expression was heartbroken and ashamed. "I'm so sorry," the other boy murmured in a tremulous voice, trying to smile as he pushed back his bangs with shaking fingers.

Not knowing what to do, Akira merely nodded and looked away, trying to calm his wild heartbeat with sheer will. "We're still friends," he said quietly, doing his best to reassure the shaken boy.

"I'm sorry," Hikaru repeated, offering his hand to help Akira up. "Honestly, Akira, you can hit me if you want. I deserve it."

"I'm not going to hit you, but I might start yelling at you soon."

They both jumped as Isumi's voice broke in. "Ahh…I keep finding you two like this. Is sharing the fold-out bed going to be an issue?"

Akira looked up, feeling trapped and exposed. He lightly knocked away Hikaru's hand and stood on his own. That earned him a wounded look from his friend, but the bleach-banged boy rose to stand beside Akira without making an issue of it.

"No, sharing the bed won't be an issue, but Hikaru might be bruised or scarred if he tries to get too friendly while I'm trying to sleep."

Hikaru sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Akira, I really am. I can't help it."

"Can't help what?" Isumi asked, looking as though he already knew the answer.

"Trying to kiss me all the time," Akira muttered, trying his best not to blush again.

Isumi cleared his throat. "Hikaru, is there something you wanted to tell me? Us? I wondered, but this seems like confirmation. You're not into girls at all, are you?"

Hikaru looked as though he wanted to crawl away and find a dark corner to die in. "Not really."

"You love Touya, then?" Isumi asked calmly.

Hikaru gasped as if slapped and Akira blinked in astonishment.

"Uh…I don't know about that, I just…I like him best." The bleach-banged pro had turned a deep shade of red.

"I see. I think it's time for us to have our talk, what do you say? That way Touya can have some peace without being thrown over the Go-ban for reasons he can't understand."

Akira put a hand over his face, unable to keep himself from blushing at Isumi's wry comment. "I'm not an idiot, Isumi. I know what sex is, I just don't want it with…" he broke off, unable to continue. He let his hand drop.

Hikaru was giving him a desolate, broken look. "I know that you don't want to be with me, Akira. I wouldn't try to do that. I just wanted to be close to you. That's why I keep trying to kiss you…I'm sorry. I'll do my best not to trouble you anymore."

Something about the phrasing concerned Akira. It almost sounded as if Hikaru were proposing a complete withdrawal from his life.

"I'm not…I…think I'll just take my shower now, if no one minds. Isumi?"

"I took mine earlier. I'm fine. Hikaru and I will take the opportunity to talk about this while you're in there." Akira met Isumi's darkened eyes and thought that they looked unhappy, despite the fact that his host was smiling.

"Thank you. I'll go now." He gathered his sleep clothing and toiletries needed for his shower, and as he was closing the bathroom door behind him, he heard Isumi speaking again.

"You, sit down on that couch. Obviously this talk is overdue. What do you…"

The door closing cut them off, but Akira could just imagine what Isumi would say to poor, confused Hikaru.

No, Hikaru wasn't confused. _He_ was the one that was confused. Damn Hikaru and his peculiar way of making everyone feel whatever he was feeling…

Akira turned on the water a little colder than he preferred, closing his eyes and trying not to recall the curve of Hikaru's back and backside as he washed his hair.

It was more difficult than it should have been.


	17. Turnabout Is Fair Play

**A/N: Waya…ahhh!!**

* * *

Hikaru tucked his feet beneath him as he settled on the couch, feeling a nervous fluttering in his stomach at the thought of being questioned by anyone about Akira.

Isumi set his sake cup down on the small table beside the couch and sat down with a deep sigh. After a moment, the dark-haired boy turned his head to pin Hikaru with a _look_. "You haven't answered me, Hikaru. What do you think you're doing? What are you hoping to accomplish with Touya?"

"I…told you. I like him best."

"So you don't love him?" Isumi pressed, blue eyes intent.

Hikaru glanced away at the bathroom door. "I don't know. I don't know what that's like. Besides, I thought that those sorts of things didn't really happen."

"You've been hanging out with Waya for too long," Isumi muttered under his breath.

"What?" Hikaru blurted, startled.

"Nothing. Disregard that. Suffice to say, it is possible for boys to fall in love with boys."

"Oh…do _you _have experience with that…?" he began, intrigued. He broke off when Isumi's eyes narrowed.

"Hnn." The other pro took another sip of his sake, looking markedly unhappy for a moment before his expression smoothed out.

That response didn't exactly invite further questioning. Things were slowly beginning to add up in Hikaru's mind. "I want to be close to Akira," he offered quietly.

Isumi's lips thinned. "It's apparent that you have strong feelings for him. But Touya seems rather confused, and maybe even unwilling."

Hikaru gave a weary sigh and rubbed his face. "I know. I'm confused, too, and he's giving me mixed signals. I don't know what he feels, but he _did_ kiss me on his own once."

The other boy's brows rose. "Really? Then…?"

"Then he said he only did it because I looked like I needed it," Hikaru continued quietly, staring fixedly down at the couch cushions.

"That seems a bit suspicious."

"That's why I'm confused about how he feels. I don't know what else to do except to leave him alone as he asks."

"Are you okay with that, Hikaru?"

He frowned, looking up sharply to meet Isumi's concerned eyes. "Of _course_ not, but there's nothing I can do about it if that's what he wants. The last thing I want is to push things and lose his friendship. He's more important to me than anyone."

"So nothing has ever happened between the two of you, aside from that little kiss at the club."

Hikaru blushed, smiling slightly as he recalled. "Not really, just that and the other kiss. You know what's really awful? I somehow ended up getting this embarrassing tattoo of his name when I was in a drunken stupor, and he saw it."

Isumi was startled into a laugh. "Really? _You_? How did that happen? Where is it?"

He blushed harder. "You really don't want to know where it is, but…I woke up with his name on my ass, of all places."

The dark-haired pro's eyes went wide before he burst out into hysterical laughter.

"Isumi!! Stop laughing so hard! It was Waya's fault!"

Isumi managed to regain control of himself and wiped away a tear with the back of his hand. "Ahh, I can't believe it. That's so funny. So Waya made you go? He never told me that."

"Yeah, and apparently he got a tattoo, too, but he wouldn't tell me where or what it was."

The other boy looked puzzled. "That's strange, I'm sure I would have seen it when…" Isumi suddenly stopped, a slight blush staining his cheeks. "When we were swimming or something."

Hikaru didn't reply for a moment, too busy contemplating what the blush and pause in Isumi's speech were covering for. "He must have gotten it in the same sort of place that I got mine in. You wouldn't have seen it in that case…right?"

The dark-haired boy shook his head, getting up to refresh his sake bottle.

He watched his friend, intrigued. He'd never seen Isumi behave so strangely before. "So what's going on with you that has you bothered?"

The other pro paused in his actions for a moment before responding. "It's nothing you need to be troubled with, Hikaru. I just don't want to discuss it. Thanks for caring, though."

Hikaru was about to respond with indignation when the bathroom door opened. He hadn't realized that the sound of the shower had stopped.

Akira wandered out in matching white pajama pants and top, lovely green hair slightly tousled and damp.

He resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose at the stodgy, boring sleepwear. He would have been surprised if his rival had chosen something else, to tell the truth.

"Are you ready for bed, Hikaru? I'm exhausted." Akira approached, aqua eyes hopeful and weary.

"Sure. Waya and I have had sleepovers here before, so I can set up."

Isumi left the kitchen, detouring to scoop up his sake cup. "I'll be in my room and awake for a little while if either of you need me." With that, their host retreated, shutting the door behind him.

Hikaru shrugged and busied himself with getting the sheets.

* * *

Akira could _not_ sleep. He had never slept beside anyone before, and even though he could just barely hear Hikaru's soft breathing in the darkness, it was there. 

Hikaru was asleep, he was certain. What if the other boy rolled over onto him? What would he do? It would be terribly embarrassing to have to wake his friend up in a situation like that. Perhaps he should just let Hikaru sleep on if that happened.

He shivered at the thought of being pressed against the bleach-banged boy all night. He remembered what the weight of the other pro's body felt like, and he was quite certain that he would never sleep tonight if that happened.

Akira slowly turned his head to the side to look at Hikaru. The other boy was turned away from him, the back of his head and neck being the only parts of him that were visible.

What in god's name had happened to him tonight? First the shameful peeping, and then the way he'd reacted to Hikaru's advances. It was no wonder the other boy kept coming at him. His reactions were confusing, to say the least. If he was this confused, how could his friend understand what he meant, how he felt?

How _did_ he feel? Why did he keep having such strange feelings sweep through his body at those moments? When Hikaru had been pressing him into the floor, teeth grazing his neck, he felt as if he'd barely been able to hang onto his protests. As if he was only able to utter them from sheer force of habit.

When Isumi had said something about being thrown over the Go-ban, his mind had immediately jumped to sex – and had rejected the idea violently. He'd been terribly startled by the idea. But he didn't find Hikaru disgusting, or dislike any of the closeness he'd experienced with the other boy.

He examined the moment when Hikaru had pressed close to him earlier and he had fallen over. Along with the fear was a thrill of something…it was exhilarating, frightening and disorienting, all at the same time. It made him feel as if he were falling, and every time Hikaru drew close to him, he had a peculiar fluttering or dropping feeling in his stomach.

Akira closed his eyes, trying to think of someone else that he found appealing. Anyone else he'd been attracted to. Twelve-year old Hikaru, beaming so adorably at him when they'd first met…no! He kept searching. Hikaru's sly teasing outside of the internet café, daring him to take the bait…not that, either. Those were both Hikaru.

After endless minutes passed with only memories of Hikaru surfacing, Akira gave up. It was very sad that the only person he could ever recall being attracted to was his rival. He had apparently always been drawn to his friend, even before these other developments.

What would have happened if the bleach-banged boy had never kissed him at the club? Would something else have happened? Would _he_ have done something? All he knew was that the first kiss had opened a Pandora's box inside of him. There was no going back. He knew now what Hikaru tasted like, what the other boy felt like inside of his mouth, and though it frightened him, he couldn't say that he disliked it.

He knew the scent of Hikaru, how their bodies fit together, his voice, his mannerisms and ways of speaking…what he didn't know with the other boy was true intimacy. He didn't know what excited his rival, what his naked body looked like (the earlier glimpse wasn't exactly complete), what sorts of noises he would make in the course of said intimacy, and…what it would feel like to have sex with Hikaru.

Akira turned his flaming face into the pillow, unable to believe that he was even thinking or wondering about such things. He couldn't seem to regulate his breathing, no matter how he tried. It felt as though some floodgate had been cracked open and was struggling to gape wide. That which was escaping it seemed to be filling his heart. He refused to allow it to open any wider.

He had hurt Hikaru. The fact that the other boy had already been settled at Isumi's apartment when Akira had called argued for a deep hurt. Though Hikaru had smiled and said that everything was fine…

_You liar. You smile at me even when you're only moments away from breaking down. Why?_

Akira slowly reached out towards Hikaru, meaning to lightly touch or stroke the other boy's hair, but stopped just before doing so, hand hovering. Just as slowly, he withdrew. What if his friend woke up and caught him?

He turned over so that his back was to his rival and sighed deeply. What was so great about sleepovers? This was painful.

* * *

Waya glanced at his alarm clock and scowled. He'd slept in late again. But then, he hadn't been able to sleep very well. 

His conversation with Isumi last night had been less than satisfactory. Something about the way the other boy was acting was disturbing him. His best friend wasn't at all his usual self. He almost felt as though he were getting the cold shoulder from Isu. _Isumi._

Dammit! Even if it was only in his head, he couldn't allow himself to slip into using that horrible diminutive, and definitely not for it to become a habit. How nauseating. The only times he'd ever called Isumi that were the times he'd been unable to get the other boy's full name past his lips—

Waya savagely crushed that train of thought and drove a fist into the other pillow several times, cursing angrily. "I hate this fucking shit!" he exploded, biting his lip hard as he fell face-first back into his pillow.

He was still slightly sore from the other night. He loathed the tangible reminders of the sex with Isumi. Turning over, he lightly trailed his fingers down his stomach. It didn't feel the same as when the other boy did that to him. _He wanted that touch._

Waya clenched the hand that lay on his stomach into a fist. He missed Isumi, but he couldn't see him because Hikaru and Touya were there. If they would only leave, he had half a mind to lie in wait for Isumi again…so that he could sink further into this depravity. Perhaps it was a good thing that they were there, but it also irritated him. He should have access to Isumi whenever he wanted it. Whenever he wanted _him_. However he wanted him.

"Isumi…" he whispered, running his hands over his lower stomach and hips.

It _wasn't_ the same.

He reached for his cell phone to call the other boy. Put it back down. Picked it up again. "God," he whispered. He didn't want to be controlled by these evil feelings.

Waya slowly opened the phone and manually dialed Isumi's number. He listened to it ring, trying to quiet his breathing.

"Hello, Waya," Isumi murmured in greeting.

"Hi. Did you just wake up?"

"No, _those_ two were up early, and they can't seem to stay quiet, so I got up, too. They're pretty wound up."

"When are they leaving? I mean, what if I wanted to hang out with you?"

Isumi gave a short laugh. "I don't know when they're leaving, but they're not bothering me. _Do_ you want to hang out with me?"

"Well, yeah. We're buddies. We should go out to the movies or something. I thought there was one that I wanted to see."

There was a long pause from the other end. He almost thought he'd lost the connection somehow, but then Isumi spoke.

"We could do that. They can be left here for a little while. I have to hope that I won't find them in a sorry state when I return. I don't know whether to separate them or to lock them in a room together and encourage them."

"Are they that into each other?" he asked coolly.

"What's so bad about that?" Isumi countered, voice soft.

Waya squeezed his eyes shut. That tender voice in his ear always seemed to undo him. He wanted to say, 'You're right, what's so bad about that? I'm being stupid.' But then he regained control of himself.

He took a deep breath. "It's up to them if they want to go down that road, but you shouldn't encourage it. You'll only confuse them about what's right."

"Waya…" Isumi replied darkly. "Are you _certain_ that you want to go to the movies with me? You don't sound as though you're in a sociable mood, and _I'm_ not in the mood for that."

He bit back his angry remark. He wanted to see Isumi badly. It seemed like it'd been a hundred years since they'd last seen each other. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."

Now he just had to pick some random movie that they could watch and act as if he'd truly been wanting to see it. His main objective was to see Isumi, and he wasn't sure he'd be fine with seeing him _and_ Hikaru _and_ Touya. He could always amuse himself by tormenting them, but that would upset Isumi, and that was the last thing that _he_ wanted. Angry Isumi was worse than anything, and to be avoided at all costs.

Waya rubbed the back of his neck, running his fingers up under the fringe of his hair where his stupid tattoo was hidden. Thank god no one would ever see it. What had possessed him to pick a celtic star for his tattoo that night? It had seemed a good idea at the time.

But then, so had sex with Isumi - and this was how things had turned out.

He got up with a sigh, tripped over the sheets and proceeded to drag himself to the bathroom for a shower.

* * *

Isumi sat staring at the movie screen in the nearly empty theater, wondering what had possessed Waya. Since when had the amber-eyed boy ever been interested in medieval movies and knights? Just as he was about to turn his head to ask, he saw his friend lean towards him in his peripheral vision and felt lips against his ear.

"Are you enjoying the movie, Isumi?" Waya whispered into his ear.

Isumi shuddered, gripping the chair rests. "It's not…really my thing," he responded with slight difficulty.

"Maybe _this_ is," Waya murmured, reaching up to turn Isumi's head towards him.

His eyes went wide as he found the other boy's tongue slipping past his lips. He truly shouldn't be surprised anymore, but he found that each time Waya did something like this, it only surprised him more.

Isumi tried to pull back, but Waya got up out of his chair and crawled onto Isumi's, straddling his hips.

Now he was _truly_ determined to pull back. He succeeded after a moment, mostly because Waya let him. "What are you _doing_?" he hissed, shocked beyond his ability to express.

"I miss you," Waya whispered, kissing him deeply again.

Isumi was pressed back into his chair, unable to gain any leverage out of their position. There wasn't really anywhere for him to go, and turning his head would do him no good, even if he could manage it.

The other pro's body pressed against his with controlled urgency, not completely abandoning control. Yet. The stimulation forced a soft moan out of him, though it was muffled in his lover's mouth.

He was painfully aware of the small things, like the scent of Waya and the other boy's fingers lightly stroking the sensitive skin behind his jaw. They kept wandering down the sides of his neck, then returning to their original position.

'_Why are you doing this?'_ he thought fiercely at the other boy. His body was responding almost violently to Waya's touch, and he _ached_. He wanted so badly to lose himself inside of his friend again. 'Once more' never seemed to be enough.

Waya drew back for a moment, lightly brushing his lips over Isumi's. "Do you want to come to my place and hang out…for a little while?"

He gazed up into those glittering eyes, knowing exactly what would happen if he did. _Hoping_ it would happen again. "Yes," he heard himself whisper.

Would he ever be able to say no to Waya's invitation?


	18. The Harsh Light of Reality

Waya discarded his shoes at the door and took a few steps into the 'living room' of his studio apartment, Isumi hot on his heels. He could practically feel the heat of the other's boy's presence against his back, and it raised the fine hair on the back of his neck.

He recalled with a twinge of anxiety that the sink was full of dishes and that clothing was strewn all over the floor in his bedroom. He paused, turning to look up at his friend.

Dark blue eyes searched his, returned his regard heatedly. "Have you changed your mind?" Isumi whispered, reaching out to lightly brush his thumb over Waya's lips.

He felt his throat tighten. "No…I just…the place is a mess." His voice sounded squeaky and strangled to his ears.

Isumi smiled tenderly. "What's new?"

"You! That's an awful thing to say! Ha!" But he smiled back through the tension that sent fine tremors through his entire body. Waya looked down to where the other pro's hands hung slack by his sides and reached out to take one, cradling it in both of his.

Isumi's hand was warm, the nails clean and trim, fingers slightly calloused from playing Go for so many years. It was slightly larger than his own, paler. He brushed his thumb over the other boy's knuckles and backed up, pulling his friend into the bedroom with him.

Waya did his best to suppress the feelings that were trying to overcome him and seduce him. Excitement for Isumi being here tingled within him, adding to the heady arousal that he was already struggling with. He could feel the heat in his face, his flushed cheeks.

He'd hardly been able to keep his hands off of Isumi in the car, impatient to resume what he'd begun in the theater.

The idea of the other boy being in his space like this, soon to be in his bed, sent goose bumps down his body, and he repressed a shiver.

Perhaps this hadn't been the best idea. He'd never done this with Isumi in his own personal space, and somehow it made things more immediate. He felt less capable of disassociating from it, and if he did this here and now, surely those memories would taint his private space…

He clenched his jaw and turned them so that Isumi's back was to the bed – and kept pushing.

"What are you…?" Isumi began, expression one of confusion.

"Be quiet," Waya commanded, forcing his friend down onto the rumpled bed. He followed, pressing the dark-haired boy into the mattress with his weight.

The other pro frowned. "Waya, don't order me—"

He kissed Isumi hard, pouring his entire being into it, and circled the other boy's wrists with his hands, pinning them to the bed on either side of where their bodies lay.

Those serious eyes fluttered closed and Isumi made a soft sound deep in his throat.

Waya absently traced the lines of his friend's jaw as he explored his mouth, feeling a painful sweetness growing between them. He wasn't sure if it was Isumi's fault or his own. He finally pulled back the slightest bit, brushing dark bangs out of blue eyes, and locked gazes with the other boy.

"Waya, we _have_ to talk," Isumi murmured, half pleading, pain in his eyes.

He swallowed, closing his eyes to shut out what he couldn't deal with. "We will."

Isumi began trying to sit up, pulling against Waya's hold.

Waya bore his lover back down to the bed. "Please," he whispered into the other boy's ear, punctuating it with a nip as his grip tightened. If the dark-haired boy truly wanted to fight him, he'd lose. He was smaller, slighter.

His friend froze for a long moment, then slowly relaxed, melting back into the bed.

He bit his lip, taking a few seconds to savor the warm solidity of his lover beneath him. He then released one of Isumi's captured wrists and slowly undid the buttons of the other pro's crisp blue shirt, flipping it open to allow his fingers to wander over the torso of the boy that was half-pinned beneath him. He tried to memorize the texture of Isumi's skin, the sound of those hitched breaths. The breath that couldn't come easily when he was near, the composure that his touch disturbed. He relished the effect that he had on the other boy.

He knew that those blue eyes were watching him, searching for something to say, or for some clue as to why he was acting this way. But he didn't even know, so how could the other boy decipher his behavior?

All he knew was that he was losing control in the interactions between the two of them, and that it had to stop. He had to gain some leverage. Just being close like this and feeling Isumi's gaze upon him was enough to make him tremble. Waya didn't even want to consider the shaking weakness that sunk its claws into him when he and the other boy had sex.

He nipped at the soft flesh of Isumi's stomach and side, wringing gasps from his friend. Slowly, he moved down, leaning in to kiss and tease with his tongue as went. Waya brushed his cheek against the hardness under the other pro's jeans and Isumi bit back a moan, arching against him.

Gentle fingers ran through his hair. "Waya, _please_," Isumi breathed huskily.

He looked up into the other boy's intense gaze, satisfied with what he saw there. _He_ was definitely the one in control right now. "What is it?" he asked with feigned innocence.

Isumi's jaw tensed and something changed in that gaze. "Waya," he said again, but there was a note of hurt buried in the tone this time.

Waya quickly turned his face down and brushed against Isumi again, trying to distract him. _Dammit, _things weren't supposed to go like this.

He pulled open the jeans and roughly dragged them off of his friend, along with boxers, flinging both violently behind him. Before the other boy could say anything or protest, he began touching him with sure, heated hands.

In the midst of Isumi's moans and tightly closed eyes, he reached up under his pillow and discreetly retrieved the lubricant that he had stowed there right before leaving to go to the movies this morning.

He wanted to prepare as much as he could before allowing his lover to know what he was up to. He had a feeling the other pro wouldn't exactly be agreeable. Waya leaned down and took Isumi into his mouth, concentrating fiercely on overwhelming the dark-haired boy with sensation and pleasure.

When his friend was panting hard and completely oblivious to the rest of the world, Waya quietly prepared his fingers with the lubricant and slowly attempted to slip a finger into Isumi.

"Ah!" the dark-haired boy gasped, pausing in his slow thrashing.

Waya released Isumi for a moment to whisper, "It's okay, relax, relax."

His lover didn't really seem inclined to blindly obey. He took the other boy into his mouth again, applying himself with a vengeance, and received a loud cry and bucking hips for his trouble. That was better.

Despite the fact that all of his attention was taken up with trying to keep Isumi distracted, it didn't change the fact that all of this had aroused him to the point of pain. Why did he have to react this way to another boy? To _this_ boy?

_Isumi, I might…I feel…NO!_

Waya finished easing his finger into Isumi's slightly more relaxed body. This wasn't going to be easy.

His attention was drawn out of his inner world by the sound of his partner's voice.

"Waya…wayawayawaya_waya_…" Isumi's breath was caught up in sobbing moans, hands clenched tightly in the comforter. They twisted over and over as he watched in fascination.

Waya closed his eyes and continued his ministrations, silently pleading with Isumi to give him what he needed. He needed to be in control for this to be okay.

When he thought the other boy was ready, he prepared himself with his unoccupied hand. It proved rather difficult to keep his concentration on the other things he was doing, but he finally succeeded.

Waya suddenly withdrew his mouth and fingers from Isumi and positioned himself, gripping the other boy's hips and lifting them.

Isumi's eyes opened slightly, dazed and somewhat confused. "Wa…ya…?"

"I'm here–" he began, slowly pressing forward the smallest bit into the other pro.

His friends blue eyes opened wide, and Isumi's hands flew up in an attempt to keep him from moving his hips. "Waya, what are you—"

He took the other boy's hands in his and squeezed them as he entered Isumi a bit at a time. It was torturous.

"Ahh…_ah…_" Isumi's back slowly arched, mouth open, eyes closed tightly.

The hands imprisoned in his spasmed, and his lover's body tightened around him as he settled fully. It was unbelievable, and now he understood why Isumi always wanted to be the one doing this. Not that receiving his friend wasn't just as wonder…ful…

Waya hissed at the tone of his thoughts, and resisted the urge to say the things filling his head to Isumi. He wouldn't say a single one. They had no place being in his mind. He waited until his lover's body had relaxed and adjusted to him, then withdrew slightly, taking a shallow breath before pushing very slowly into him again. And again.

_I don't mean to hurt you. It just happens._

The dark-haired boy thrashed under him, breathing wildly erratic and constantly interrupted by helpless little noises of pleasure. Isumi's hair was swept away from his face and slightly damp from their exertions, pale cheeks deeply flushed. _Beautiful._

_I don't want you to be near anyone else. I want you to only be near me._

Waya took a deep breath and closed his own eyes, not wanting to look upon anything that would endear the other boy to him further. Every time he looked at Isumi, he found one more thing about him to…to enjoy. The lines of his collarbones, the angle of his jaw, the depth of his eyes, the play of the muscles beneath his skin, the strangely graceful column of his throat… Could boys be graceful? And all of this aside from the things from _within_ Isumi that he treasured, like his mind, his patience, his understanding and his dry humor.

_I don't care for anyone as much as I care for you. And I don't want that._

Waya had ignored the building tension in his body for as long as possible, trying to prolong this, but he couldn't take any more. He folded over and tucked into the curve of Isumi's body, reaching one hand down between them to touch the other boy.

Lightly, he kissed the side of Isumi's still open and gasping mouth. One blue eye opened the slightest bit to regard him. That color was not just 'blue' to him. It was sapphire blue. Deep ocean blue. A boy shouldn't have such beautiful eyes. It made him think the wrong things.

"Mm… Way…a…_hah_…"

"Yes?" he whispered, kissing the skin beside his lover's eye.

"Love…_you_…" Isumi's arms came up to embrace him tightly. "Can't…hold…"

Waya was on the edge of losing control himself. He increased his pace, ignoring his desire to bite Isumi, thereby leaving marks for anyone to see. His release rushed up on him, drawing away his sense of self, sweeping away his perception of everything else but where his skin touched Isumi's. Nothing else existed. Only those places.

_Only us. What if I wanted…this with you? If I let us… Would it be…okay? Would you smile again?_

He was vaguely aware that he was crying out too loudly and clawing at Isumi's shoulders. He could also hardly breathe because the other boy was clinging to him so tightly. His lover's heated breath was coming in frantic gasps, and he cursed himself for not being able to give his full attention to some of the best noises he'd ever heard from Isumi.

Strange. He still trembled, even when it was like this. Even when he was in control and dominating this person that compromised his stability, he felt shaken and vulnerable.

Waya allowed his face to rest in the warm curve of his friend's neck. Since no one would see it, he smiled. Perhaps he should withdraw from the other boy before relaxing, as he might receive the same treatment as he'd given Isumi that first time. He moved to do so, but Isumi's arms tightened, preventing him.

"That was…nice," the dark-haired boy managed to whisper into Waya's hair.

"Mm. Need to clean up."

"No. Stay like this for just a minute…since you dragged me to some horrible movie…just for this."

Waya stiffened slightly. "How do you know I didn't want to see that movie?" he demanded indignantly.

"Known you for too long," Isumi replied breathlessly. There was a smile in his voice.

A comfortable silence stretched out between them. The other pro broke it a moment later, seemingly somewhat recovered. "That was a dirty trick, Waya. You never asked if I wanted that."

"But you want anything I give you, don't you?" he replied casually. He knew he'd said the wrong thing as soon as he felt Isumi's body stiffen and withdraw from his the slightest bit.

"That's just the problem, isn't it?" Isumi's voice was cool. "That attitude."

"I said something wrong?" he murmured tentatively.

"Dammit, Waya!" the other boy snapped. "Why are you always like this!" His lover pushed away from him and got up, bent on retrieving his far-flung clothing.

He absently noted the scratch marks that he had apparently left on those shoulders, and wished that he could be pleased, but nothing could penetrate the anxiety that choked him.

Waya sat there and watched the other pro's tense, jerky movements, unable to do or say anything to remedy the situation. The things that would keep Isumi here would also undermine his own control and balance.

He felt a cold lump growing within him, and it was lodged in his chest. It felt terrible. He didn't want Isumi to be like this, to leave this way.

Waya propelled himself up and off of the bed, interposing himself between his friend and the doorway. "Don't…Isumi."

Guarded blue eyes examined his face. "Don't what, Waya?"

_I didn't mean to be an asshole._

He took Isumi's hands in his. "It…was true, though, wasn't it? So why did what I said upset you?"

Isumi's eyes narrowed at him and his hands were shaken off. "How can you be so ignorant? You shouldn't just state things so obnoxiously like that. You take advantage of me, and you take my feelings for granted!"

With that, Waya was firmly pushed aside.

The dark-haired boy strode towards the door without looking back, the sharp movements of his body still loudly proclaiming his anger and…his hurt?

Was Isumi hurt?

He opened his mouth to call out, to apologize, to something – and the door to his apartment closed behind the other boy.

Waya clenched his fists. "I'm sorry. _Isumi_. I care, I _really_…I…we're friends and…" He looked down, frustration and anger growing within him. "Fuck it!" he snarled, turning and punching the wall.

Pain throbbed in his abused hand, but he ignored it and stormed off into the bedroom, intent on taking a shower and forgetting everything that had just happened.

* * *

Isumi got into his car and leaned back in the seat, taking a deep breath. _I will **not**__cry._

Every time he drew close to Waya, the other boy hurt him like this, just a careless backhand to his emotions. _"But you want anything I give you, don't you?"_

"No, Waya, I don't. I don't want this pain. I don't want your stupid remarks, and I don't want to have to _beg_ for you or play these _stupid_ games!" He slammed his fists against the steering wheel, inhaling through his clenched teeth.

Calm, _calm_. He needed to calm down. Isumi lifted a hand to cover his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but what had just happened. Which was somewhat difficult, considering he was in a little pain, both physically and emotionally.

Why had Waya done that to him? He recalled the intensity glimmering in the other boy's amber eyes, the parted lips. He had managed to open his eyes only a few times to look up at his lover, but each time revealed Waya deep in the throes of his own passion, looking vulnerable and desperate.

He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this. He wanted a relationship with Waya, not a tortured denial. He didn't want to be used, or cast aside over and over for the sake of the other boy's self-deception. He was caught between a rock and a hard place – his strong love for Waya, and Waya's issues.

When he thought he was ready, he started the car and drove the relatively short distance back to his own apartment. He wasn't really looking forward to facing Hikaru and Touya, but thought he'd survive it. He just wouldn't say anything.

When Isumi arrived, he parked next to Hikaru's car and got out, double-checking to make sure he had locked his door before going up the stairs.

Dark clouds were gathering in the sky, cutting off most of the sunlight. "Figures," he muttered, letting himself into his apartment.

Both boys were on the couch playing what looked like a racing game. It seemed Hikaru was training Touya. Amazing.

Hikaru paused the game and turned to look at him, smiling. "How was your movie?"

Isumi shrugged. "It was mediocre. You know movies these days."

"You were gone a long time – for like, six hours." Hikaru's gaze was expectant.

"Ahh…well, we went out to eat." His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

The bleach-banged boy arched a brow.

"It was before the movie. I'll eat something again now. We were just…you know, hanging out while we were waiting for it to start. I know I said I thought I'd be late, but I'd mistaken the movie time, and we really had quite a lot of time, so…" He cleared his throat, realizing that he'd been rambling. "So. It was fine."

"Uh…okay." Hikaru's translucent green eyes were fixed on him, suspicious and almost knowing. They flickered over him as if looking for clues, then returned to his face for further examination.

Touya was looking at Hikaru with a frown, apparently trying to figure out what the other boy was on about.

His cell phone rang at that moment. Reluctantly, Isumi drew it out, knowing exactly who it would be. "Yes," he answered brusquely, in no mood to be bitched at again.

"Isumi," Waya said quietly.

"Yes?" he replied a little sharply.

"I didn't mean to say…you know. I'm sorry." The other boy's tone sounded uncertain.

"Hmm."

"You're not saying much," Waya remarked. "Are they _still_ there?"

"Yes."

"For how much longer?"

"I don't know," he replied flatly.

"Isumi…are you angry?" Waya asked softly, sounding the slightest bit insecure.

He slipped outside again, ignoring the questioning looks of the others. After he had safely shut the door behind him, he responded. "You tell me. Good old reliable Isumi _never_ gets angry, does he?" He couldn't help it – his tone was a bit snarky.

There was a brief pause, and he could sense that his friend was gathering himself for something. "Fine. That's just _fine_. But it'd be better if we could actually have a fight face to face for once, don't you think?"

Isumi scowled. His heart was pounding and the adrenaline pouring into his system was making him feel nauseous. "_I'm _not the one that has a problem with that. I mean, I don't know – do _you_ think that you could handle seeing my face for that long? Wouldn't that throw a wrench into your pat denial? Would it make you sick or something, since you can't even bear for me to stay close to you after we make love? Oh, excuse me, I'm making things _emotional_ again. After we _fuck_, I meant to say."

There was a slight intake of breath from Waya, then a long, long silence. It lasted an eternity. He listened to that silence with every fiber of his being, waiting for it to be broken by something better.

The sudden dial tone surprised him. He pulled the phone back and stared at the 'call duration' information in disbelief. _Waya_ had hung up on him. He honestly couldn't believe it.

Isumi clenched the phone in his hand, resisting the almost overpowering urge to hurl it over the railing and across the parking lot. _Deep breaths._ Deep breaths were necessary. **_Calm, calm._**

He would need tranquilizers soon if he had to endure any more of this.

Turning back to the door, he went back inside, trying to smile at his guests. This time Touya looked suspicious as well.

"Is everything okay?" Hikaru asked gently.

"Fine, just fine. It's lovely outside, isn't it? Very nice day. Unfortunately, it's going to rain. But other than that, there's a good breeze. Nice." He smiled again to reassure them.

"Uh…" The other boy still seemed somewhat concerned.

"Just fine," he repeated, going straight to the bathroom to take his shower and hide where no one could analyze him. Where no one would ever guess that he was perilously close to falling apart.


	19. The Broken Edge of Love

**A/N: If you're still with me up to this point, thank you for reading. I truly appreciate the comments and support. I am sorry for the angst, but I swear that things will be lightening up a little soon! Hikaru and Akira will also get more time!**

**If anyone is interested, I listened to a lot of Mesh while writing this chapter and the last one, in particular 'Leave You Nothing' and 'The Trouble We're In'. They are both off of the 'Who Watches Over Me?' album. **

I also found a picture of Waya and Isumi (while browsing a Japanese site) to cheer you all up a little as you read their angst.

**http://www5.ocn.ne.jp/wegweb/Gallery/Gallerypage/yume.htm**

* * *

Akira stifled a yawn as he left the bathroom, heading directly back to the fold-out bed to wake his rival up. Hikaru had slept in yesterday, too, and it was a horrible inconvenience to their host, as they were literally taking up most of the living room. He was determined to successfully eject the other boy from bed this morning, despite the fact that he had failed miserably yesterday. 

Hikaru had sprawled out to take up Akira's half of the bed during his brief absence. Thank goodness he didn't have to fight to get back into that bed. And if he had to spend one more night staring at Hikaru's profile, he'd lose his mind. Never mind that they'd only spent a couple of nights like that – it was hardly easy.

He had to smile as he gazed down at his friend, despite his exasperation. While Isumi had been gone, Hikaru had driven them around to practically every apartment complex in the area. They'd finally found one that would let him move in within the week, and it even had two full bedrooms. Hikaru had promised to help him move in.

"Hikaru, wake…" Akira trailed off as Isumi came storming out of his bedroom, cell phone in hand.

"Waya, for the love of—" Isumi paused, slanting a wary glance at Akira, then darted out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Hikaru sat up, blinking dazedly. "Whaa? 'Kira, what's goin' on?"

Akira continued to stare at the door for a moment, then slowly turned to answer his friend. "I don't really know. Isumi just slammed out. He was on the phone with Waya."

"S'not good," Hikaru mumbled, rubbing his face.

Akira could vaguely hear the rise and fall of Isumi's voice outside, and the other boy did not sound pleased. To see such a mild person become so agitated was very disturbing to him. People often mistook him for one of those people, but despite being rather quiet and withdrawn, he was very intense and passionate – not the least bit like Isumi.

"No, I don't think it is. Fortunately my apartment should be ready to move into in another day or so. I hate the fact that we're troubling Isumi. Besides, _you_ have somewhere to live, so why are you still here?"

Hikaru blinked up at him, suddenly wide awake and looking vulnerable and disturbed. "I…I just needed to get away."

"Did it have something to do with what happened between us earlier that day?" Akira asked quietly, bracing himself.

But the other boy only set his jaw stubbornly and looked away, shaking his head. "No, it had nothing to do with that at all. Mom has just been really annoying. You know the way she is. She doesn't really tell me 'no', she just nags me to death until I give up and do what she thinks is best."

"What else can someone do when faced with you?" Akira teased, lightly flicking Hikaru's exposed arm. Damn Hikaru and those horrible little gym shorts that were all he wore to bed!

The bleach-banged boy gave him a particularly sunny grin, green eyes bright with good humor. "Hmm, be persistent?" There was something faintly sly in those eyes.

He'd better stay out of range, just in case it mutated into the kiss look. He couldn't keep up with his rival's mercurial mood shifts.

The sound of Isumi yelling outside startled both of them.

The front door opened suddenly and the dark-haired pro slammed back in with more force than he'd gone out with a few minutes prior. Blazing, angry blue eyes turned to them, and both shrank back as one. "I love you guys…but please get the fuck out of my apartment." The line was delivered through clenched teeth and a scary smile that was no more than a stretching of lips over bared teeth.

He and Hikaru sat there frozen as Isumi put a hand to his face, then turned back around and went back outside. A moment later Akira found the courage to peek out the window that faced the parking lot and saw Isumi's car pull out and race off.

"Hmm," he commented, turning back to Hikaru. "He just left. Does he do that often?"

Hikaru looked utterly shocked and pale. "God, no…Isumi has _never_ been like that before. At least not in front of me or anyone else that I know. I don't even think he's been like that to Waya." Realization suddenly lit the other pro's face. "_Waya. _It has to be. I thought that something strange was going on with those two lately."

"What do you mean?" Akira asked, frowning.

The other boy gave him an impatient look. "Don't tell me you could have possibly missed all of the weird stuff that has been going back and forth between them. I mean, really. We haven't been invited to hang out with them lately, and Waya has stopped returning my calls. Plus the fact that Isumi talks to Waya constantly, despite the fact that I can't even get him to hang out with me or give me a call. Then we have Isumi getting angry, cursing at us and throwing us out of his apartment. If it's not Waya, then he's possessed, because the Isumi I know is nothing like the other one we've been seeing lately."

Akira stared at Hikaru in surprise. "Are you saying that there's something more than friendship between them?"

"Betting," the other pro affirmed, crossing his arms.

"Hikaru, just because _you're_ like that doesn't mean that Isumi and Waya are. You're seeing it everywhere—"

"Dammit, Akira!" Hikaru's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "I am _not._ Don't make this about me!"

Akira resisted the urge to take a step back from those intense eyes. It was too close to the other pro's game face for his comfort. Without a Go-ban between them, he had no idea how to respond to that look, so he changed the subject. "Speaking of those sorts of things, why haven't you been talking to your girlfriend?"

"I told her when I first got here that I was going on a trip for a week, so she has no reason to expect another call until then. All I had to say was that it involved Go and she lost interest – after making sure that _you_ wouldn't be along, of course."

A strange feeling coursed through him when he was reminded of the situation between Hikaru and Amari. It was primarily a mixture of protectiveness and anger, with a hint of some other, more acidic emotion. He'd felt the latter particularly when other people had been given the chance to play Hikaru back before the other boy had played him regularly – back when he was still chasing after him.

"On a slightly different tangent, Hikaru, Isumi just told us to get out of his apartment. My apartment is not ready yet, thus I will have nowhere to stay tonight, and…" He shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to have to ask after the offer that Hikaru had made a few days ago.

Hikaru grinned up at him, thoroughly amused. "And you need to take me up on the offer to stay at my place for a night or two. Sure. I already said that it was okay."

"Thank you. The sooner you get dressed, the sooner we can leave."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I sure as hell don't want to be here when Isumi gets back. But I'm really worried about him, Akira. I think he's losing it."

"There's nothing that we can do about that," Akira replied calmly.

"Ever the optimist, aren't you?" Hikaru muttered, running a hand through his unruly hair.

"I'm a realist," he replied.

"Pessimist," the other pro insisted.

"Realist."

"Well, your realism sucks!" Hikaru made an immature face at him and leapt out of bed, dashing off to the bathroom.

_Please don't let him come out naked or with barely a towel on again._

At least the clothing the bleach-banged boy had been wearing lately had been more conservative. The jeans were all in one piece and there was no fishnet anywhere that he could see.

Akira began stripping the sheets off of the fold-out bed. He would to attempt to remove all signs of their presence. He appreciated the hospitality and kindness that Isumi had shown them, and also the gift of the Hikaru photograph. It was the very least that he could do.

To tell the truth, he was also concerned about Isumi.

* * *

Isumi pulled over on the side of the road, shaking, and finally screamed. He'd been holding it in for the last five minutes. The conversation he'd just had with Waya made him want to drive recklessly and tempt fate. Screaming was better. 

Just recalling it made him ill, his grip on the steering wheel tightening involuntarily.

"_Isumi."_

"_Well, good morning to you, Waya." He wasn't about to bring up the fact that Waya had hung up on him yesterday, even though it was in his tone._

"_They're **still** there, aren't they?" The other boy sounded waspish._

"_Why yes, yes they are. Why, do you have a problem with that?"_

"_No, not really. I just know when I'm not welcome. It seems they've become your new constant companions. Do they help you relieve tension, Isumi?"_

"_What are you talking about?" He was completely and utterly confused, but he didn't like the tone of Waya's voice._

"_Are you that lonely? Are our little trysts not good enough?"_

"_Waya," he said warningly._

"_I know Hikaru is probably more to your tastes, being a friendly little fag and all. Do you relieve tension with your new best friend, too?" _

"_Waya!" he cried desperately, something tearing in his heart._

_Waya's voice dropped lower, almost whispering. "Do you, Isumi?" It raised goose bumps all along his body, for it was a lover's tone. It should have been a lover's tone, but it was taunting. "Do you let him do to you what I did to you yesterday? Do you let him see you like that? You do, don't you? You beg for him to--"_

"_Fuck you, Waya!" he yelled into the phone, hanging up. He pressed the phone into his chest so hard that it hurt, then spun to slam back inside and deal with his guests._

Isumi shuddered as the memory of what had happened just a few minutes ago looped over and over in his mind. He couldn't bear to be around anyone right now. Perhaps he'd just…drive for a while.

* * *

Waya dialed and re-dialed Isumi's number with a singular determination, shaking so hard that his teeth were clacking together. He'd really pushed the other boy this time. But he had to have the truth. 

Why else would the others, especially Hikaru, stay for so long? He couldn't think of any other reason but that something had to be going on between Hikaru and Isumi. As he'd said, the bleach-banged boy was friendly and willing. Surely much more likeable, much more appealing than his own admittedly wretched self. Had he somehow missed something between them all this time?

He hadn't really slept last night, turning over and over all the possibilities in his mind, as well as the last thing Isumi had said to him. The other boy had been so _cold_. For some reason, it had disturbed him deeply when Isumi had 'corrected' himself and referred to what had happened between them as 'fucking'. It really _bothered_ him. So much so that he would have cried, if he were prone to doing such weak and stupid things.

He'd had the irrational urge to ask if Isumi still loved him, which was silly, because he doubted that Isumi truly loved him anyway, as love wasn't possible between boys. It just wasn't.

Waya thought of Isumi's impassioned face again and couldn't bear to think of what they'd done as 'fucking'. Sex, yes, but even that term made him feel slightly disoriented, slightly sick. Did his friend truly think of it that way? Was it just a joining of the flesh? He found that he couldn't stand the idea.

He dialed again. "Fuck you, Isumi, answer your fucking phone!" he yelled as the voicemail clicked on yet again.

He desperately wanted to hurt something, but there was nothing to hurt. He needed the cell phone in order to get Isumi, so he couldn't destroy that. Hurting himself would just be one more nuisance to deal with, one more complication.

"I want you here," he whispered to the phone as he re-dialed.

Waya could still smell the lingering scent of the dark-haired boy on his comforter and on his pillow.

He no longer cared that the others were there. He would go and see Isumi and settle this once and for all. He would have the truth, even if he had to beat it out of Hikaru.

* * *

Isumi wrestled with his keys dully as he was walking up the stairs to his apartment, attempting to separate out the right one in the failing light. 

He had driven around all day and it had not made him feel the slightest bit better. He was now miserable _and_ exhausted. Besides, everything reminded him of Waya.

Isumi fumbled with his key for a moment and finally got the door unlocked. He would take a long, hot shower and perhaps settle onto the couch afterward to read. Anything to get his mind off of the situation he found himself so thoroughly tangled up in. He walked into his apartment – and promptly froze.

Waya was sitting on the couch, looking baleful. There were dark circles under his amber eyes, and they were fever-bright. "You've been gone a long time," the other boy sniped.

He couldn't deal with this right now. He could also tell just by glancing around that Waya had gone through his personal belongings. Quietly clenching his jaw, he went directly into the kitchen to heat up some sake.

Waya stood sharply to follow him, crowding him and invading his personal space. Which was ordinarily fine by him, except when he was on the brink of losing his mind and Waya was ranting at him.

"Where have you been?" the auburn-haired boy demanded.

Isumi refused to look at his friend. "Out," he mumbled.

"So just what _is_ going on between you and Hikaru? I assume that it's Hikaru, and not Touya. I seriously doubt you'd go for Touya, despite the fact that he's pretty."

"Nothing," he replied monotonically, staring determinedly at his sake as he heated it in the microwave.

"Nothing? Yeah, right. You don't even have time for me anymore—"

His sake was ready. He rescued it and immediately poured some for himself, knocking his first cup back in one swallow. Doing his best to tune Waya out and avoid recalling why he'd been upset in the first place, he leaned on the counter and drank steadily.

"Are you listening to me? Dammit, Isumi, you even left your phone here! I thought you said you loved me, and yet here you are ignoring me and messing around with whomever you feel like. Isn't one person good enough?"

Waya's voice had settled into that strident tone that drilled into his brain. Whenever the other boy became very upset, his voice jumped up to that maddening pitch. A pitch that drove Isumi to distraction. There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to enable him to deal with this moment with grace.

Rage and pain were building to frightful proportions within him, drowning his logical and calm self out. What was this craziness that Waya was going on about now? These accusations were hardly rational.

"To think, I've been depraved and engaged in horrible, wrongful acts for you, not just once but several times, and you can't even appreciate it. I saw that photo album out of its usual place – do you really need to look at pictures of him, too? You won't even deny it. I guess I'm just not good enough for you, am I? _Am I? _Why the fuck not!" Waya's tone was harsh and aggressive.

_So you still think of it as sullying yourself when we make love. Just who isn't good enough for **whom**? You're the one that thinks that **I'm** not good enough for **you**!_

He had reached the limit of what he could bear. Isumi turned and winged his sake cup across the room where it shattered against the wall over the couch. Momentarily focused, he rounded on the other boy, finally meeting his eyes. "Then stop it, Waya! Just _**stop** it and get the hell out of my face!_ Leave. Leave _**now**._" He did not care that he was yelling. He did not care that his voice broke. He did not care about much of anything right now except for getting away from the pain, the source of which was currently (and much too often) Waya.

Waya's amber gaze was shocked and disbelieving. The other boy's mouth was hanging open as he stared at Isumi. "Isumi…?" Waya whispered hesitantly, reaching out for him.

"**_Get out!_**" he barked, backing out of Waya's reach. He would not allow the other boy to gloss over this nightmare with sex again, emotionless, _loveless_ sex.

Just looking at his friend hurt him. He ached to hold Waya, but knew that it wouldn't fix anything, wouldn't do either of them any good. He was also dying to slap the other boy senseless.

Quietly, Waya left, but not without a last wounded and longing look at him before the door closed.

"Why do you look at me like that when you don't care?" Isumi whispered to his now blessedly silent and empty apartment.

He couldn't bear the chaos in his mind, or the pain tearing him apart. It was too much for him to cope with. He had never planned on having emotions like this, and had never suspected that he was capable of feeling so deeply or passionately before meeting Waya.

He had certainly never planned on _loving_ the other boy when he'd first laid eyes on him. But one day, he had suddenly realized that he _did_ love him, without knowing how or when it had happened.

He didn't know what to _do._

Isumi went directly into the bedroom and crawled into bed fully clothed, not bothering to shut off any lights or worry about cleaning up the mess he'd made. The bedroom was dark and silent, and that was all that mattered.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and buried his face in his pillow, trying to pretend that he didn't exist. If he didn't exist, then he couldn't feel the wrenching pain that was consuming his heart.

_Waya is…my heart. My heart, rebelling against me._


	20. Wakeup Call

"Your mother cooks quite wonderfully, Hikaru," Akira commented, tone slightly surprised as he looked up from his plate.

Hikaru made a noncommittal noise from where he hung half off of his bed, flipping through a kifu book that he was giving only half of his attention to. He had finished his own dinner a few minutes earlier, seeing as how he was starving and Akira ate so damned methodically.

He'd been stealing glances at the other boy since they'd arrived approximately an hour ago. The only way that he could stand sleeping beside Akira every night was to try to be asleep when the other boy finally made it into bed after his lengthy evening grooming. God knew what took up so much time. It had to be the hair.

"I don't think I've ever spent the night at your house before," Akira murmured as he resumed picking at his meal.

"No, you typically just come over to play Go and argue with me," Hikaru replied with a smirk, looking at his rival to gauge his reaction.

Akira didn't disappoint him. The remark earned him a disapproving look, but he could see some slight disguised amusement in the other boy's aqua eyes. "That's not my objective, Hikaru."

"Hmph." He was very impressed that Akira had actually decided to wear normal clothing today. He thoroughly approved of the blue jeans and black tank top. The other boy had slender, shapely arms with just a touch of muscle tone.

"Are you _looking_ at me?" Akira asked incredulously, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Startled at being caught, Hikaru hid behind his kifu book. "What? What are you talking about, Akira? Can't you see that I'm reading? Geez, you always think that everyone's looking at you, don't you?"

He could _feel_ Akira's scowl. "Of course not, but I have more than enough reason to suspect that you might look at me. You've made enough passes to justify my having a bodyguard by now."

It was Hikaru's turn to scowl. He lowered the book to glare at the other boy. "Well, that's not an issue anymore, now is it? I won't be making any more 'passes' at you, so you can just forget about that."

Akira blinked a couple of times in surprise, then masked it and gave Hikaru his patented haughty look. "Who says I care? That's certainly a relief. It's nerve-wracking to have to be concerned about it constantly."

"Is that so?" he returned hotly, oddly hurt by Akira's remarks. He had thought that the other boy had some reaction to him, that there was _something_ there, whether Akira was willing to admit it or not, but obviously he'd been wrong.

"Let's play one of your silly video games and then a few games of Go before bed."

Hikaru could tell that it was a blatant attempt by Akira to avoid an emotional argument with him. He huffed a little before relenting. He had no desire to fight with his rival. It was just a little annoying that the other boy was always being avoidant like this. "Fine, we'll play whatever you'd like."

And here they'd gotten along so well at Isumi's place.

Perhaps he should call Isumi to check on him. He couldn't stop thinking about what his other friend must be going through to have spoken to them like that, and he _knew _how Waya could be. For someone that cared so much for the auburn-haired boy, it had to be hell.

Hikaru made a face. Spare him that! Thankfully, Akira was more the quiet and introverted type, never in-your-face like Waya.

"Hikaru?" Akira prompted, looking at him expectantly.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, got distracted."

"By…?"

He made a mocking face at Akira. "Oh, probably just my perverted fantasies, since you _know_ that you're all I think about, 'Kira."

Akira looked slightly taken aback, but there was also a glimmer of something uncertain and peculiar in his expression, accompanied by a rather fierce blush.

He was _really_ starting to wonder about these mixed reactions that his friend kept giving him. Not that he'd ever get the truth out of the other pro, but he was tempted to provoke Akira into a further, more meaningful response. But he'd meant what he said. He wasn't going to make any more passes, despite the fact that he could barely resist doing so half of the time.

He was going to cut his losses and be glad to have Akira as his best friend and rival. Asking for more wouldn't get him anywhere.

* * *

Akira wondered why he let himself be convinced to do these things that he _knew_ were not good ideas. Such as letting the bleach-banged boy persuade him to share a bed with him yet again. His rival had given him some spiel about how the couch was horribly uncomfortable, and how Akira's sleep would be disturbed by his mother clattering around in the morning, etc. 

So here they were in bed together. _Again._ Akira sighed into his pillow and turned over yet again, facing Hikaru. Moonlight filtered through the curtains at the nearby window, faintly illuminating his friend's features.

Why did Hikaru have to be so painfully adorable when he was asleep? He edged a little closer, still watching the other boy's face.

Had his rival truly meant it when he said he'd been having fantasies? Surely not, since the statement had been paired with one of Hikaru's trademark 'obnoxious' expressions. But his own reaction had been horribly girlish. Something within him had leapt and thrilled at the words before the other boy's expression had sunk in.

Something peculiar _was _happening to him, within him. Perhaps his father _had_ been correct, as much as he hated to admit such a thing. Being around Hikaru had made those confused feelings even worse. He hardly knew what to do with himself.

And then there was the assurance from Hikaru that he would make no more passes at Akira. He'd felt so…_disappointed._ So empty and sad. Despite the fact that this was what he'd wanted, what he'd told the bleach-banged boy that he wanted…it made him unhappy.

How disturbing was _that_?

Akira moved even closer, rising up on his elbow to lean over Hikaru. Their legs were just barely touching, but it sent a surge of warmth through him. Why was he so fascinated with this annoying, unruly boy?

Hikaru shifted slightly into him, bringing their bodies closer together, and Akira held his breath, hoping with all of his might that his friend was not about to wake up.

After several moments of no further movement, he leaned in closer until he could faintly feel the other boy's breath on his cheek. He slowly leaned down and inhaled the scent of Hikaru's hair, allowed it to brush his nose. It was soft and smelled faintly of apples.

His rival made a very faint sound that could have passed for a breathy moan, and Akira realized that he'd been breathing into his friend's ear. He blushed, but did not back away. He might never have another chance like this again.

Failing to question his own actions, he moved so that his lips were almost touching Hikaru's. He stayed like that, sharing breath with the bleach-banged boy. Akira closed his eyes, barely able to withstand the feelings that were awakening within him at his own daring, at his proximity to this person.

Hardly able to breathe, he opened his eyes again and leaned forward just enough for his lips to touch Hikaru's. Without quite realizing what he was doing, he opened his mouth a little more, began seeking for the moisture of his rival's mouth…

Hikaru stirred and Akira jerked back, heart thundering so loudly that he could barely hear anything else.

Those green eyes opened slightly, settling on his face. "Mmm…'Kira…what's s'matter?"

"I just…couldn't sleep," he whispered hoarsely, almost choking on his fear that Hikaru would _know._

"Want…tea?" the other boy managed to mumble sleepily.

"No, that's fine. Thank you."

Before he had even finished his assurance, Hikaru had fallen back asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief. Well, what did he expect if he was foolish enough to get so close and do something like that? What was the matter with him that he had been lulled into almost beginning a _real_ kiss with the other boy?

Akira closed his eyes, realizing belatedly that there was an insistent, tight heat in his abdomen and that he was embarrassingly aroused, even more than he had been the other night when he'd tried to imagine sex with Hikaru. It _hurt_. There wasn't much that he could do about that, unless…unless…

Face burning with humiliation, he slid out of bed and made his way carefully to the bathroom in the hall. This was horrible. At least no one would be questioning him.

He had never been interested in any kind of sexual gratification until Hikaru. Since meeting the other boy, he had sometimes felt inclined to touch himself, albeit infrequently. But lately, it had become almost necessary in order to control his awkward and misplaced desires. The more he was around his friend, the more insistent and fierce the urges were.

Akira quietly closed the door behind him, hoping that Hikaru wouldn't wake up and come looking for him.

* * *

Hikaru crunched happily through his very Western toast, trying to keep an eye on Akira without getting caught. Again. 

Since they'd woken up this morning, the aqua-eyed boy had been acting stranger than usual. Reticent, yes, but also furtive. As if Akira had something to hide. That, and the way the other boy was always watching him so intently whenever he happened to look up. Every time he caught Akira staring, the other pro would look away sharply, a slight blush rising in his face.

This, of course, made Hikaru _extremely_ curious. It seemed almost as if he were being crushed on by the other boy, but as Akira had expressed so clearly, such a thought was quite ridiculous, as his rival had _no_ romantic interest in him.

"I have to find a boyfriend as soon as possible," he muttered to himself, thinking with dread of Amari. The sooner he found one, the sooner he could break up with her.

"What?" Akira exclaimed, eyes wide and startled as they met his for a moment.

"I said I have to find a boyfriend?" Hikaru repeated, arching a brow.

"Oh…I see. I thought you'd said something else." The other boy looked down at the table, ignoring his miso soup.

"Like…?"

"It was nothing, it didn't make sense." Akira picked up his chopsticks and was suddenly focused on the soup as if eating it was his most important goal in life.

"Uh…okay. If you say so."

Was he the only one that acted normal anymore? Waya had turned into some recluse, Isumi was freaking out and Akira was jumping at every little thing.

"How do you think Isumi is doing?" he asked Akira.

"If how he was acting yesterday is any indication, I'd have to say not well." Akira's response was delivered in a steady voice, his tone very matter-of-fact, but the other boy still refused to meet his eyes.

"That's what I'm afraid of. I want to go over there and see how he's doing, but I'm also kind of afraid to try. He might kill me or something. I tried calling Waya this morning, but he _still_ won't answer me."

Hikaru's mother entered the kitchen. "Are you boys all set? Did Hikaru at least give you real food, Touya-kun? I don't know how he eats what he does and still looks so healthy."

"Moooooomm," Hikaru groaned, rolling his eyes. "Leave us alone! Man, obviously I can heat up some miso for Akira. I could even cook if I had to, but there was already some in the refrigerator, so all is well, right? So stop worrying about us." _Bothering_ them was more like it, but it disturbed Akira when he was sharp with his mother.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality," Akira murmured, inclining his head towards Hikaru's mother.

She smiled and clasped her hands together. "You are welcome any time." With that, she left the kitchen.

"Oh, thank god," Hikaru muttered, slouching in his chair. "You always manage to get her to go away."

Akira gave him a slightly amused look. "If you'd be kinder to your mother, I doubt she'd 'bother' you quite so much. It's obvious that she just wants to interact with you, Hikaru."

"Hmph, I wish she'd interact somewhere else," he grumbled, relieved to be on the familiar ground of griping about his mother.

"Hikaru! You are an ungrateful and wretched son!" Akira was chiding him, but the other boy still smiled faintly.

He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head, watching in amazement as his rival's gaze dropped to briefly skim over the lines of his torso before jumping back up to his face. He waited, watching Akira's face closely… _Blush._ There it was! It was like clockwork!

Apparently his fishnet top had _some_ effect on Akira, especially without anything on under it. He was also wearing a pair of very torn up cut-off jean 'shorts' with black spandex underneath so that he wasn't flashing anyone. The other boy had criticized and verbally dissected his shorts quite thoroughly before giving up and allowing Hikaru to wear them in peace. Perhaps his rival found them _too_ interesting. He had to grin all over again at that.

"So we're moving you in today, eh? No more sharing a bed with me. Yaaaayy." He deadpanned the 'yay' just to be cute.

Akira shrugged, attention riveted on his soup once again.

Something told Hikaru that it was going to be a _very_ interesting day.

* * *

Waya finished packing his backpack and zipped it up, leaning over to glace at his cell phone where it lay on the table beside his bed. Hikaru had called at 9:53 A.M. while he was in the shower. He would surely ignore that. 

He picked up the phone to check for any calls from Isumi, but there had been none. He had not dared to call the other boy last night after their falling out, but he had tried calling him five times this morning with no answer.

Isumi was ignoring him again. He was worried. He was _more_ than worried. Upon waking up this morning, he had realized just how very out of line he had been last night. Even if Isumi _was_ playing around with Hikaru, he had pushed his friend too hard. Too hard. He could plainly see the signs of Isumi's stress.

He'd been all over the other boy lately, his insecurity and fear making him act like a complete bitch. He had to take responsibility for it, before he allowed it to wreck everything worthwhile in his life. Before he drove Isumi insane.

What if he had destroyed everything and anything between them? The wildness in his friend's eyes last night, the yelling and the broken cup had been a more effective wake-up call than if Isumi had simply thrown the sake in his face.

Everything that had happened between them in the last couple of weeks played back in his mind, especially the times he had pushed the other boy away or had callously and insensitively crushed the emotions that Isumi tried to share with him.

_I'm so afraid. But I can't keep hurting you like this._

He had chosen to wear his green tank top and his green and brown camouflage pants. Camouflage made everything better. It was also his most comfortable and favorite outfit, and who knew what would happen today when he went back to Isumi's to confront him yet again? The other boy was clearly done with him.

As an afterthought, he grabbed his mp3 player. If he had to wait for a little while, it would keep him from working himself up by distracting him. Waya paused, closing his hand gently around it. It had been a Christmas present from Isumi. It was doubly fitting that he take it to keep him company.

"I'm coming, Isumi. Just hang on. Your stupid ass of a friend will be there soon."

* * *

Isumi took a deep breath as he watched the filtered sunlight play over the stones before him.

He had thought that it would be pleasant to spend the day away from other human beings, and so he had decided to walk to the park near his apartment earlier this morning.

He was settled at a picnic table beneath a maple tree and had even had the presence of mind to bring his portable Go-ban. He'd been playing random games with the occasional passerby for several hours.

It was soothing and distracting, but not the least bit challenging. He was mostly just enjoying the sound of the wind, the rustling leaves and the absence of discord. And the absence of his cell phone, among other things.

But he also missed those other things.

Isumi stared vacantly at the Go-ban, fingers occasionally stirring the stones in his Go-ke.

_If only I could stop loving you, Waya. Things would be so much simpler._

But the sky would sooner fall. As trite and melodramatic as it sounded, he loved the other boy absolutely, and he didn't think that anything would ever change that. Even if he managed to dredge up the strength and determination to cut Waya off, he would be hurting himself the most. It didn't matter if they saw each other, if they touched. His lover was always with him - in his thoughts, in his heart, in his soul and everything around him. There was no escape for him.

To no longer see Waya…his hand clenched, capturing some of the stones and grinding them together.

Isumi looked up at the sky without seeing it, trying not to think of the grinding in his chest, the ache in his throat. Being without the person that meant everything to him didn't bear thinking about.

He couldn't tolerate this half-relationship between he and Waya. To have the other boy, and yet have nothing of him at all.

He glanced at his watch, surprised to note that it was 3:00 P.M. He wondered vaguely if his friend had even attempted to get in touch with him. He supposed he'd find out in a little while. It was about time he went home, anyway.


	21. Mixed Signals

Hikaru found himself smirking as he watched Akira fussily arranging his kifu books on a bookshelf in some way that made sense only to Akira.

To tell the truth, he was pretty tired. Bringing over the boxes hadn't been the difficult part, as there weren't too many of them. No, _Akira_ had convinced him to pick up a few pieces of 'easily assembled' furniture. 'Easily assembled' his _ass!_ It would have been easier to build the bookshelves and entertainment center from scratch than it had been to put them together 'without tools'. Ha. _Ha!_

'A' to 'F', 'F' to 'G', 'A' to – _"No, Hikaru, not **that** way, the diagram clearly states that 'A' must be connected to 'K' at this point!"_ And so on.

Actually, to be honest, Akira hadn't said a word about needing anything. Hikaru had ended up offering his services, seeing as how Akira had looked almost…forlorn, standing there in the middle of the very empty apartment. It had almost broken Hikaru's heart to see him so lost and lonely like that. Before he realized what he was saying, he had insisted that they get Akira some 'furniture'.

They'd also managed to pick up a small dining room table. It was only big enough for two people, but somehow he didn't think Akira minded. The other boy was no entertainer. Through it all, his friend had been strangely quiet, speaking only to indicate which unit and color he desired. Those aqua eyes hadn't met his in hours. Something was going on in that head, and he had no idea what it was. But wasn't that always the way?

Hikaru became abruptly aware of the fact that he was _starving_. It was 2:00 in the afternoon, and the last thing he'd had was his toast for breakfast at 9:00 A.M. or so. His metabolism was apparently faster than Akira's, as the other boy did not appear to have any other concerns aside from organizing the kifu books.

He tried to be patient. He glanced around the bedroom, staring at the blank white walls. If this had been his apartment, he would have put up the posters _first_. He couldn't stand emptiness. Their voices echoing throughout the empty rooms freaked him out.

"You still need a living room and bedroom set," he murmured to Akira's back. "What are you going to do for a bed, Akira?"

The other boy paused in his fanatical organization and half-turned to look at Hikaru. "What _can_ I do? I did place an order with the furniture store while we were there, but they said that it would have to be delivered tomorrow."

Hikaru leaned over, bracing himself on his knees, and sighed. "You need _something_. You can't just sleep on the floor." He watched Akira through the curtain of his bleached bangs. "You could always stay the night with me again."

"_No!_" Akira exclaimed, blushing immediately. "No," he repeated again more softly, turning his back to Hikaru.

"You don't like being with me?" he asked in a low, quiet voice.

Akira's body tensed, movement stilling. "It's not…that. It's just that there's no need. I'm fine, Hikaru."

"Hmm." He straightened, tossing his bangs out of his face. He wasn't going to get anywhere with this, and Akira would just become a stone if he persisted in his questioning. "Well, it's official. I'm starving to death."

"We have nothing to eat," the other pro responded monotonically.

"Oh, _god!_ Why have you deserted me?" Hikaru made his voice as dramatic as possible, shaking his fists at the ceiling. "I slave away and there is _no food!_ What have I done to deserve this? A young man with a doomed fate!" He allowed himself to collapse slowly to the floor, pretending to be dead.

He heard Akira sigh, and resisted the urge to grin.

"Honestly, Hikaru, you're ridiculous. Come on." Akira's voice had drawn closer, which meant the other boy must be crouching beside him.

He ignored Akira's request, waiting, and was startled to feel the other boy take his hands after a moment, tugging lightly at them in an attempt to make him rise.

"Come on, Hikaru, we'll get you something to eat. We can go get ramen or whatever you prefer. I won't have you going grocery shopping with me. You've already done too much."

Unable to help himself, he smiled a little, but remained where he was. He felt Akira release his hands and wondered what was going on as he heard the other boy walking away. Had Akira become tired of the game? Was he going to be left to starve to death on the carpet? Hikaru would be very upset if his friend walked out the front door without him. _Very._

A flash of light accompanied by a clicking noise startled him and he opened his eyes involuntarily. Akira was standing over him with a digital camera up to his face, finger on the button.

"Akira?" he murmured, confused and taken off guard.

The camera flashed at him again. "I don't have any pictures of you, Hikaru, and you're my only friend. Isumi thought that was strange, so I'm taking some."

Hikaru blinked, sitting up. Akira was still hiding behind the camera. "I think it's even _weirder_ that you're suddenly taking pictures of me. What do you want pictures of me for, anyway? I'm not nearly as good as a pin-up girl, I'm afraid."

"But you have the sun in your eyes," Akira said softly.

It was said so softly that Hikaru barely heard it, and imagined that he must have _mis_heard the aqua-eyed boy. Akira didn't _say_ things like that, much less _think_ them. "W-what?" he stuttered uncertainly, staring up at the camera.

The camera lowered, revealing cool, composed aqua eyes. Guarded eyes. "Nothing. What did you imagine I said?"

"Uhh…something weird and not you. What did you really say?" For some reason, the moment that had just passed between them had him completely off balance. Surely he had imagined it. _Surely._ Akira had made himself painfully clear in regard to not liking Hikaru as anything more than his rival.

"I was simply teasing you, Hikaru. About not being a pin-up girl. I said, 'But you have one's eyes.' Meaning that your eyes always seem to have a femininity and coyness about them." Akira lifted his chin a little, eyes slightly hooded.

It was the arrogant 'how dare you question me' look. Hikaru was _very_ familiar with that look. And he _hated_ that look. It made Akira seem so distant and uncaring. It separated them.

"Akira!!" he leapt up, ready to strangle the other boy. "That's perilously close to what you said at the restaurant that night! Take it back! I do _not_ have the eyes of a slut!" Hikaru was surprised to find that he was shaking a little.

Akira set the camera on the bookshelf, moving a little closer to him. "I didn't say that, Hikaru. I'm not going to say anything like that again."

He stared up into Akira's eyes, hating that the other boy was taller than he was. Even if it was only by an inch or so, it made it that much easier for the other boy to affect the arrogant and disdainful look.

Without warning, the other pro's hand was in the back of his hair, pushing his head into the hollow between Akira's shoulder and neck. "Don't be hurt, Hikaru," his friend whispered into his hair.

Hikaru shuddered, squeezing his eyes closed. "You confuse me sometimes, Akira," he mumbled into the warm neck that his face was pressed into. The scent of Akira's hair, as well as faint scent of some cologne, surrounded him and drowned his senses, his brain cells. They were crying out for help and he was unable to assist them.

"What is there to be confused about?" Akira asked quietly.

He realized that the other boy's free arm was loosely draped about his waist, hand pressed into the small of his back. There seemed to be a trembling tension in that hand, as if it wanted to move. He was unable to wrench his attention away from that hand.

"Hikaru?" Akira prompted in a low, husky voice, the hand on Hikaru's lower back slipping fractionally lower.

Oh, god, they definitely weren't children anymore. Times like this reminded him quite forcibly of that. _Why do I have to want you like this? Why can't I just let us be best friends and leave it at that? I always take everything the wrong way._

"Y-yes, Akira…what _is_ there to be confused about? Whenever I'm close to you, I forget that you aren't interested in me…that way. I'm sorry that my mind is so twisted, but please don't forget that I can only interpret these sorts of things in one way. My other friends never…hold me like this. They definitely never kissed me. So you confuse me a little, sometimes." _**All** the time._

"Friends don't hug each other? Would you rather I don't touch you anymore?" Akira's voice was calm, almost toneless. The hand in the back of Hikaru's hair clenched briefly.

_Damn you, Akira. _"Not quite like this, perhaps. And you know what I have to say to the second question. You know that your touching of me isn't the issue."

"You sound a little winded, Hikaru. Are you well?" Akira sounded concerned, but there was a strange note in his voice.

_I'll give you 'well', you little…_ "Well, being held by you gets to me a little, 'Kira. _Akira._ Yes, I'm 'well', but I need food." Dear god! If there were any god or gods in the universe, please let them rescue him from this torment!

Akira swayed closer to him, seemingly unaware, their bodies pressing together in too many places for Hikaru's comfort.

"Akira!" he croaked, pushing away a little. "I'm still a little sweaty, you don't want to…" He trailed off as he looked up into those aqua eyes. They were intense and electric, just like a building storm about to explode into fury. That look was very different from the one that Akira had always fixed him with when they played Go. This one was almost scarier, and raised all the hair on his body.

"You still smell clean. You always smell pure…" Akira's pupils were dilating as he spoke. Dilating and pinning a little.

Hikaru watched in amazement. He'd had no idea that Akira ever took note of how he smelled. Or that the other boy liked it. Apparently a lot, if the current reaction was anything to judge by.

Experimentally, he pulled away a little, only to have Akira's arm thwart him and pull him closer again. He despised being played with like this, however, as enjoyable as it was. "Are you _going_ somewhere with this, Akira?" he murmured, bringing his face very close to his friend's.

Aqua eyes blinked repeatedly, looking surprised. "W-what? What do you mean?"

"Are we going somewhere with this?" he repeated huskily, moving into Akira until their bodies were flush again. He wondered how _that_ would affect Akira. Perhaps like a glass of cold water being thrown in the other boy's face.

* * *

Akira felt cold. And frightened. Hikaru's very green eyes were so close to him, and he felt as though he'd just awoken from a dream that he wasn't certain that he truly wanted to recall.

The question Hikaru had asked him had broken into his mind like a stone being hurled through a pane of glass. He didn't need to ask for clarification on the 'going somewhere' part. The other boy's eyes, as well as the closeness of their bodies, told him all that he needed to know about that.

"I-I didn't mean…" Akira whispered, trailing off.

"You never _do_," Hikaru muttered somewhat bitterly, eyes darkening and cooling considerably.

"Hikaru—"

Hikaru broke free of their embrace and cut him off. "Well, well, I think it's time to eat!" the bleach-banged boy sang, stretching his arms over his head and turning his back on Akira.

His eyes skimmed over his friend's body repeatedly, ignoring his mind's order to look elsewhere. It was that outfit that had tampered with his mind in the first place, that had made him want to be too close to Hikaru. Not to mention the times the other boy had accidentally brushed against him today or bent over in front of him, as well as various other maddening things. It was as if he had momentarily descended into some altered state where logic had no place. '_Madness_,' his mind supplied obediently.

Seeing Hikaru lying on the floor, fishnet-clad arms over his head, stomach exposed, legs spread, not enough clothing covering his body…eyes closed, hair in disarray, head thrown back, baring the other boy's throat to tantalizing effect… And then, perhaps, less clothing, and Akira's hands against that tanned skin, touching the paler places…

Akira covered his mouth with one hand, jaw clenched so tightly that it ached. Damnation, but this was getting out of hand. Perhaps he should consider taking something for it. Was there anything that could quell a hyperactive sex drive? Unfortunately, he was only aware of having a sex drive when he was near Hikaru. Otherwise, he was typically so indifferent to sexuality that other people found him disconcerting and unnatural.

"Hello?" Hikaru's voice broke into Akira's reverie, shattering his train of thought. Beautiful green eyes peered at him, almost luminescent.

He gave a guilty start, feeling caught and exposed. Hikaru did not seem aware of the thoughts he'd been having, but looking at the bleach-banged boy was doing nothing to cool him down. He was painfully aware that both of them were aroused - something he had been forced to notice when their bodies were pressed together a minute ago.

'_Don't look at me!'_ he thought violently at Hikaru.

They were _both_ aroused, so why…? Akira bit down on one of his knuckles, trying to stop thinking. _Stop **thinking** like that!_

"Uh…hey, I don't mean to interrupt anything, but I really will starve to death." Hikaru looked completely normal and composed, a faint flush in his cheeks the only sign remaining that they'd been embracing each other up until a couple of minutes ago.

Why wasn't Hikaru having this difficulty! He didn't even _like_ Hikaru and he was having this issue, so if the other boy deeply _liked_ Akira, then he should be much worse off! Hikaru _didn't_ truly like him!

"You don't like me at all, do you?" Akira asked coolly, the doubt like a sharp, heavy stone in his heart.

Hikaru gave him a surprised look, eyes wide. "_What?_ What are you talking about! Of _course_ I like you. I wouldn't have done all this if I didn't, right?"

"Not like that!" he snapped, making a chopping motion with his hand.

"Oh, _that._ Well, you don't want me to like you like that, so I'm trying not to. I don't want to trouble you."

_Trouble me!_ For some reason, he felt betrayed that Hikaru could manage to contain himself, or even _think_ of not liking Akira in 'that way'. The bleach-banged boy was supposed to focus only on him, with permanent feelings that would never change, with a devotion that would never flag, with an intensity that fueled his own. It was supposed to be only the two of them, _always_ just them.

He stared at the camera where it sat on the bookshelf, his eyes burning strangely. He felt as if Hikaru were _leaving_ him, but his friend was quite present. _More pictures. Need **more** pictures._

Aware of Hikaru's growing discomfort, he turned to face the other boy. "Ok, let's go."

"Dude, you're really weirding me out, Akira. What's up with you, eh?"

Akira shrugged irritably, grabbing his camera on his way out of the room.

Hikaru followed him across the living room, collecting his yellow and black backpack from one of the dining room chairs. "Dude, if you point that thing at me again, I'm going to be seriously concerned."

"Stop saying 'dude', Hikaru. I've told you a thousand times that it is not appreciated when you go into 'dude' mode. You haven't even been around Waya lately. Besides, I am not a 'dude', I am a young man--"

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" Hikaru exclaimed in exasperation as Akira locked the door behind them.

Akira waved the key at his rival. "Your Western sayings are not romantic, contrary to your fondly held belief. Why do you insist on trying to be—"

Hikaru glared at him. "Akira, I swear I'll drive us off of a bridge or a cliff if you keep on like this, I _swear_ I will! Do you really want die with _me_?"

Akira ignored that, leading Hikaru down the hall towards the elevators. At least they were successfully off of the subject that must not be thought or spoken of.

* * *

Waya felt someone's presence beside him and opened his eyes, looking up to see Isumi standing there and watching him quietly with unreadable eyes. Before he could do more than smile, the other boy went inside, the door closing firmly behind him. 

Waya swallowed, feeling his smile fall off of his face. That was it? Not even a 'hello' or 'go away'? It had been bad enough when he'd realized upon arriving that the lock had been changed and that he no longer had access to the other boy's apartment. He had paid for breaking Isumi's trust.

But to be brutally ignored like that? Was Isumi done with him for good? Waya felt tears welling in his eyes and drove a fist into his own leg. Stupid, _stupid _Waya! There was no way he was leaving until he had at least one sentence out of Isumi.

_Oh, fuck **me.**_

He gripped his head in his hands, uncertain of what to do with himself. He couldn't start screaming at the top of his lungs. He could, however, pound on Isumi's door until his fists were bloody, which he fully intended to do. He took off his headphones, slipping his mp3 player carefully into of one of the wide, velcroed leg pockets of his pants. Just as he was preparing to get to his feet to start his pounding, the door opened again.

Isumi came out with a glass of water and sat down beside him, their bodies not quite touching. The other boy handed him the glass, not looking at him. "So talk. If you're here to talk and not rant insensibly."

"Yes," Waya whispered, blinking back the tears that still threatened from a moment ago. Dammit, he was just like a girl when it came to Isumi! "Can't we talk inside?" he asked tentatively.

"No." Isumi drew his knees up, locking his arms around them. Fingers lacing together, he waited.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with that response. He began hesitantly. "I'm…sorry. I'm really sorry, Isumi. I want to…want to…" Waya pressed the heel of his hand into his cheekbone, closing his eyes tightly as he became choked up again. He forced himself to continue, focusing on the pressure. Everything that mattered in his world relied on his ability to see this through. "I want to be with you. Don't hate me. I know I've been terrible to you, I was…I am s-scared. You make me…make me feel so weak, and vulnerable, and I care about you so much. I want…you. I want to be close…to you."

Isumi was silent for some time. When he finally spoke, his voice was subdued. "How do I know that you won't reject these words later? Deny that you ever spoke them? How do I know that you mean this, that it isn't just to get what you want? How do I know that you won't reject _me_ again whenever you feel like it?"

"Isumi!" Waya cried, lifting his head to stare at the other boy in hurt.

Isumi's dark blue eyes returned his gaze calmly without offering anything. "Well? You must admit that I'm well within my rights to ask such things."

"I won't," he whispered to that implacable gaze. "I don't want to lose you, Isumi. So I'll do whatever you want."

Isumi frowned at him. "_No_, no, no, _no_. What do _you_ want, Waya? This isn't only about me."

Waya lowered his eyes, cringing a little. "I want _you_," he said softly.

"As a friend with benefits?" the other boy prompted sharply.

"No! As…mine." He couldn't believe he was saying these things to Isumi. He'd never meant to speak these things out loud. It was horribly uncomfortable, and the camou was _not_ making him feel strong. It had utterly failed him.

"Your what?" Isumi murmured, reaching out to tip Waya's chin up so that their eyes met. Isumi's were pained.

"My lover," he whispered, the admission shaking something deep inside of him.

"Without strings?" Isumi asked with a sad smile.

He took a deep, shaky breath, glancing around to make sure no one was coming down the walkway. "W-with. _With_ strings. I…want a relationship. I want the right…to be in your space, to share your life. I _hate_ this."

"I hate it, too, Waya. You've no idea how deeply I hate it." Isumi's blue eyes were intense again, intense and sharp.

"So…so will you be my boyfriend? Partner? Whatever they call it?" This was _so_ awkward. Why couldn't they just make up and be together? But he understood Isumi's need to know. His friend despised things without boundaries, things without clearly defined rules.

Isumi snorted in response, reaching over to lightly cuff Waya in the head.

"Isumi!! You'll mess up my hair!"

"Not possible," the other boy retorted, giving him a faint smile.

"So…yes?" Waya pressed hopefully.

"I _suppose_ I'll give you a try," Isumi replied, hand slipping down from Waya's hair to grip the back of his neck and shake him slightly. "And don't think that I won't make you earn this forgiveness!"

Waya laughed, beginning to relax a little. It _was_ going to be all right. But… "So you and Hikaru…aren't?"

Isumi rolled his eyes. "No, and never _will_ be, Waya. You're so paranoid. And if you're truly committed to having a relationship with me, I'll also add that neither of us will be seeing anyone else. No 'dating'. This is it."

"As if there ever _could_ be, Isumi. Come _on_. Do you think anyone else could stand me, or even understand me? There has never been anyone else. But _you_ went to China, and—"

"Waya! There was _nothing_ in China. Le Ping was _way_ too young, and you had long since captured me by that point. I only liked his company because he reminded me of you, and I missed you…so much. That was such a difficult time."

"Good."

"I will say one thing, though."

"Hmm?" as he glanced back at Isumi, he was surprised to see that his lover's eyes were stern and steely.

"If you betray me, I will _never_ forgive you, and we will not be able to go back to being friends. That will be _it_." Isumi was absolutely serious. Immovably so.

Waya could hardly breathe around the lump in his throat. He'd sooner cut off his own hands than betray or alienate Isumi. Even though he'd nearly done just that with his asinine behavior. He had no doubt that he'd be fucked to hell and back if he ever did betray the other boy somehow. This was the other side of his friend that most people never saw. The frightening side.

"So do you still want this, knowing that?" Isumi waited patiently, lines of tension around his eyes.

There wasn't really much of a choice. If he said no now, which he truly did _not_ want to do, they would still no longer be friends. Either way, there was no other path to take.

"Absolutely, Isumi. I'd do anything for you. But before that, I desperately need to go to the bathroom." The glass of water sat beside him, untouched. He was thirsty, but be damned if he was going to make things any worse on himself.

Isumi looked mildly amused. "Fine, I'll let you in and you can be comfortable. Bring your glass of water along, too."

Isumi helped him rise, and he continued to hold onto his lover's hand even after he was on his feet, not wanting to let go. The other boy's brows arched slightly, but his friend made no comment, simply opening the door and pulled him into the apartment.

* * *

Isumi beckoned Waya over to sit beside him on the couch as the other boy came out of the bathroom.

Waya complied a little shyly, smiling at him. "So…can I have the key to your apartment again?"

"No," Isumi replied calmly. Waya would have to earn that privilege all over again.

"_No!?" _the other boy exclaimed, amber eyes flaring with indignation.

He didn't reply for a moment, pinning his lover with a cool stare. "No. Not until you've earned it. You broke my trust by using your key to come in and rifle through my belongings, _and_ by lying in wait to torment me. Until I have seen that you respect me, I can't allow you to have a key again."

The indignation had subsided, and Waya was staring down at his clenched hands. "I…you're right, Isumi. I'm sorry. I don't deserve anything from you." The other boy's expression was bitter and pained, touched with a hint of self-loathing.

"Hey, stop that," he murmured, reaching out to lightly touch Waya's hands.

"Can you…can you hold me, Isumi?" Waya asked haltingly, raising hopeful eyes. "I miss you so much."

He smiled and opened his arms in invitation. The other boy moved to sit between Isumi's legs, Waya's back to his chest. He closed his arms around his best friend, cradling him tenderly but tightly.

"Are you going to take pity on Hikaru and start talking to him again now that you know he's innocent?"

"Hmph. I guess so. I sort of miss hanging out with him." Waya's tone was grudging.

Isumi laughed a little. "You're so hard on him! He didn't do anything to you, so why are you acting as if you have to forgive him?"

"It's just awkward now. I can't tell him why I was ignoring him! Then he'll know about me…about us."

"Isn't that okay?" he asked warily.

Waya was silent for a long moment. "I guess that _they_ can know."

He knew it was only prudent that they keep their relationship a secret from everyone, but it also hurt him to hear that Waya didn't _want_ anyone to know. But things were not going to be simple now just because they were together. He knew that very well.

Isumi remained silent, determined not to voice the thoughts that would push the two of them apart again. He was content just to hold Waya for now, that the other boy was finally _allowing_ Isumi to hold him.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Mm," Waya replied.

He closed his eyes, trying not to let it bother him. Waya was not going to say it back to him until he was quite ready, and Isumi knew that. But it did nothing for his insecurity.

It didn't matter. He was grateful beyond words for the moment that he found himself in _now_. It would have to be enough.


	22. Territory

**A/N: You guys are wonderful! Thank you for all of the encouragement and positive feedback. It only makes me write more. - Don't mind it if you occasionally see an earlier chapter come back up as being 'new' – I just have a tendency to go back and make minor edits. Sorry about that! Ok, on to the fic.**

**This chapter is dedicated to ****Hakuza. **

**Thank you for making me laugh, and for sharing.**

* * *

Hikaru shifted where he lay on his bed, pressing his headphones more firmly into his ears. Though he'd been trying to desperately lose his mind and his consciousness in Gackt for the last hour or so, he couldn't stop thinking about the hours he'd spent with Akira.

The _weirdness_ was back, and stronger than ever. It was harder than anything to hold himself back from touching Akira, from kissing him, from _thinking_ of how things _could_ be, if only the other boy would feel it. Hikaru thought that he had restrained himself quite admirably, all things considered.

His hands clenched in his pillow, trying to crush it. Akira was just playing. _Playing_ with him, as usual. He shouldn't pay it any mind. But those _eyes._ Those eyes had made him feel as though the entire world had disappeared, as if he were falling. When Akira looked at him like that, nothing else mattered.

But then the doubt had broken through his stupor, his enchantment, giving him the strength to taunt Akira and break away. 'Strength'. Something he felt that he had precious little of.

He couldn't stand this for much longer. He needed to find someone else to focus on, and quickly. Before he did something that both he and Akira would regret, something that would destroy their friendship.

He'd even had a dream that Akira had kissed him last night, that his rival had been looking at him with eyes that held only _his_ reflection. Such a realistic dream. He was losing it.

And what was with the camera incident? Why was Akira taking random pictures of him? What was the other pro even going to _do_ with pictures of Hikaru?

Akira had invited him to stay the night, but he'd had to decline. That strange look was still lurking in those aqua eyes, and he knew that he'd only be in for more torture if he agreed to stay any longer. He had been satisfied just finishing the day by going out to have an early dinner with Akira.

They'd talked about the recent games they'd read about, and promised to play Go together next time, especially since Akira no longer felt welcome at his father's salon. They'd both been slacking lately.

If this was what being a teenager was like, he didn't want it. It was full of drama and pain, and he couldn't seem to rein in his feelings anymore. Nothing was under his control, and things were so _complicated_. All he knew was that he always wanted Akira in his life. That must never change. Akira must _never_ leave him behind.

But they couldn't go on like this. It was trying his self-control, and maybe his sanity. Just a little. He felt just a little…insane when he was around Akira. A little unbalanced, as if something was about to shatter into pieces when the other boy touched him.

What was that about? The things he and Isumi had talked about kept vaguely troubling him, slipping into his thoughts when he was alone like this. In particular… _"So you don't love him?"_ What was love? Did he…? _"Suffice to say, it is possible for boys to fall in love with boys." _

_'I want to be close to Akira,'_ he'd said to Isumi. It was an understatement. He wanted to _breathe_ Akira. He _needed_ to breathe Akira. Without his best friend, he would disappear. He would…freeze like a photograph, all of the life and heart shaken out of him.

Hikaru tore his headphones off and half-heartedly flung them across the bed, pushing his cd player away in irritation. There was _nothing_ that he could do. _**Nothing**._ Akira didn't feel that way, didn't want him, didn't love-like-whatever him, so he just had to forget about it.

_"**Forget** __about it," _he whispered harshly to himself, nails biting into his palms as his fists clenched.

His cell phone rang, startling him. He thought about ignoring it, but decided to answer anyway. It was better than just lying in the dark and angsting. He leaned over and grabbed it off of his desk, glancing at the screen.

_Amari._ Dear god, the _last_ thing he needed. Hikaru hit the 'answer' button. "What?" he barked at her.

"Hikaru…you never called me back! I've been trying to reach you, didn't you get my message yesterday?" She sounded rather put out.

Not that he cared. "No, I was busy. I don't even really have _time_ for a relationship, Amari. Isn't this boring for you? I don't particularly _care_ to have one, either."

She breathed into the phone for a minute, then reacted exactly the way he'd expected her to. "Don't forget that you need to be nice to me, Hikaru. I could tell everyone—"

"Yeah, what-the-fuck-ever. You go ahead. Akira isn't gay, and he never will be. I, on the other hand, have had a boyfriend for some time now. So you just go ahead and _tell_ the whole fucking world, Amari, because the only person it will hurt is _me_. And you know what? _I…don't…**care**_. Do you hear me? I don't fucking care! Not to mention you'd be making yourself look bad, as well, but that's totally your business."

"You're _lying!_ You can't have a boyfriend! Where is he, if that's the case? He can't be okay with the fact that you're dating a girl!" Her voice was tremulous and sharp with distress.

"You _do_ realize that a straight guy would be a lot easier for you to control, right? You can only trap me for so long, and it can't be raising your self-esteem when you have to try so hard for such a small return, can it?" His smile flashed like the blade of a knife in the darkness. He didn't care what he destroyed when he was feeling like this.

"I thought you were a _nice_ boy," Amari whispered, sounding close to tears.

Hikaru laughed. "Well, I thought that _you_ were a nice girl, so I guess we're even, huh? You're a manipulative bitch, and I hate you. I _hate_ you. It makes me sick to even see your name, to hear your voice! If I didn't need the hand that you forced me to touch you with that time, I'd pour acid on it to cleanse it. If I ever see you or hear from you again, and if you try to ruin my life or be involved in it at all, I will show you just what _I _can do to make _you_ miserable! I have nothing, so there's nothing for you to take away from me! So _leave_ me the fuck _alone_!"

He couldn't believe his own cruelty. But the pain of having nothing was so great – and he might as well take it out on her. It felt wonderful to let out all of the anger and pain he'd kept bottled up, all of the frustration.

**_Nothing._**

Hikaru snapped his phone closed on the sound of Amari's sobs and let it fall to the floor, laughing a little hysterically. "See?" he breathed to the darkness. "See what you get for bothering me when I'm like this, for threatening Akira? I'm not myself anymore…you stupid girl." He laughed into his pillow until his stomach began to hurt, then fell silent.

A light knock sounded against his door. "Hikaru? Dinner is ready."

"Already ate," he muttered.

"Hikaru?" his mother called again.

"I already ate!" he yelled, flinging a nearby shoe to thud against the door.

"_Hikaru!_ That attitude will not be tolerated! I won't put up with it."

"Fine!" he shot back quietly, not bothering to raise his voice. He didn't care. He just wanted to be left alone.

Hikaru stared with vacant eyes at his cell phone where it lay on the floor. "And maybe I love him and maybe I don't, but no one is allowed to hurt…my Akira." He started laughing again when he realized what he'd said. "_My_ Akira! That's perfect. I am _such_ a fucking moron!"

He flopped onto his back and continued laughing. "Got…to stop…" he gasped to himself, desperately needing to breathe.

The phone rang yet again, sparing him. "Dammit, who is it _now_?" He rolled over and hung off of the bed, straining to reach it. He was surprised to see that it was actually Waya calling him.

He answered immediately. "Dude! Where have you been? Why haven't you called me back before now?"

"I…I'm sorry, Hikaru, I can't tell you why, but I wanted to say that I'm sorry. Everything should be okay now. I was wondering…do you want to hang out next weekend? All of us…Isumi, you and I and even Touya." Waya's tone was chagrined and anxious.

"Yeah, yeah sure. That'd be great. Have you checked with Isumi?" Hikaru tried not to feel too excited at the thought of being able to hang out with all of his favorite people in a few days. But it had been way too long, and he needed something familiar. Something that they had always done before. He needed something to hold onto, because everything else was disintegrating around him.

"Actually, he's right here." Waya sounded slightly embarrassed. Hikaru heard someone else's muffled voice, and then Waya exclaimed, "Ow, Isumi, you know that's not true!"

"What's not true?" Hikaru asked immediately, curious.

"We…Isumi and I…well, he said I seemed embarrassed to be around him or something."

He frowned up at his ceiling in perplexity, trying to decipher the meaning behind Waya's words. "Why would you be? You guys have been friends for forever."

"Well, yes…and…" Waya paused, and Hikaru could almost hear the blush.

"_And?_" he prompted impatiently, clutching his cell phone closer. Was this what he thought it was?

"Well, we're…we're…you know, _together_ now."

Hikaru smiled, but a pang of despair and heartbreak shot straight through his body, seemingly all the way to his toes and even down through the earth somewhere beneath him. "That's…that's great," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes as his hands began to shake.

"Hikaru?" Waya prodded quietly, sounding concerned.

"Y-yeah?"

"You don't _sound_ as though you think it's all that great." Waya's tone was suspicious and guarded.

"Oh, god, Waya – it's not that. It's nothing to do with the two of you. It's just…" Hikaru bit his lip hard, covering his eyes with one hand. Why was this bothering him so much? He had hoped to hear something like this, but somehow it just hurt to know that someone else's hope and feelings had come to fruition, had made it into a reality that didn't hurt.

"Is it about…him?" Waya asked softly.

"Geez, Waya, why are you being so sensitive all of a sudden? This is worse than when you're a total jerk. I can deal with you when you're being a little punk, but this kindness stuff is _disturbing_." He tried to force a joking tone, though his lips were trembling now, too. He tried not to blink, hoping to keep his tears from overflowing.

"It _is_ Touya," Waya growled. "What'd the little fucker do to you _now_, Hikaru? Why can't you just find someone better? There's got to be someone else."

"Please…Waya…don't say things like that. It's not his fault. I should never have crossed the line of friendship with him. It's _my_ fault. I'm the one with these fucked up feelings."

"That's _crap_ Hikaru, and you know it! There's nothing wrong with you. He's a little prick, and even if you _are_ a little daft sometimes, you're just fine how you are, okay? You're just fine. It's not your fault. If he'd use his supposedly genius-level mind, he'd realize how lucky he is that you give two fucks about him." Waya's voice was strong, fierce and protective as if he were defending Hikaru's honor.

Hikaru laughed, and it forced the tears to overflow after all. They ran down his cheeks to soak into his pillow, and still he laughed.

"Hikaru!" Waya broke in frantically. "Stop laughing like that, you're freaking me out! Are you okay?"

"Nev…never…better!" he gasped out, making a valiant effort to smother his laughter. The urge kept bubbling up in his throat, making it nearly impossible to regain control of himself.

"We're coming over," Waya said firmly.

"NO! Nonono…I don't want anyone around me when I'm like this." He could sober up enough to express that much.

"Shit, Hikaru! How am I supposed to listen to what you say you want when you're like this? How do I know you aren't one of those people that always seem fine, and then…" Waya trailed off, sounding disturbed.

"Hm? Don't worry, Waya, I was hardly able to stand getting a tattoo, right?" He tried to sound rational, but then couldn't help murmuring, "Besides, it's not as if anyone would care…"

"They would, too!" Waya snapped. "I would care, and Isumi would care, and your family would, and if Touya didn't care, I'd kill his ass."

Hikaru giggled a little, amused at Waya despite himself. "I swear, Waya, I'm not one of those people. I just get a little weird sometimes…when Akira gets weird. He…he confuses me. You know? I don't know what to do." He could tell that Waya was not reassured by the quality and length of the silence that answered him.

"Hmph."

"I'm going to find someone soon so that I can stop focusing on Akira…things will be easier, then."

"Do you love him?" Waya whispered, as if they were discussing national secrets.

"I don't know," Hikaru whispered back, trying to wipe his tears away. It was difficult when they just kept flowing…possibly from the hole in the bottom of his heart.

"I think maybe you _do_," Waya said carefully.

"What does it matter?" he returned bitterly. "If it doesn't matter to Akira, then it's pointless. Thanks for caring, Waya, you're a real friend. Don't be sensitive too often, because it's scary, and don't you _dare_ come over here. Congrats on your relationship with Isumi, and I'll see you next weekend!" He hung up quickly, not wanting to hear one more word from Waya about love or what he thought Hikaru should do about it.

And he definitely didn't want to think about Waya and Isumi's happiness right now. He hurt too much. And he felt guilty for being evil to Amari, even if she deserved it. "I am a wretched person," he murmured, turning his face into his pillow again.

He couldn't help but wonder what Akira was doing in his new apartment on his first night…all alone.

* * *

Akira sat on the floor, leaning against the wall in his living room. The apartment was absolutely silent but for whatever small movements he made, which weren't many. He held the pictures that he had taken of Hikaru earlier in the day in loose fingers, analyzing them. As soon as the other boy had left, he had set up his computer and used his photo paper to render tangible representations of them. Now he was unable to stop analyzing them.

Analyzing his _reactions_ to them. No matter how many times he glanced at the first photo he'd taken, it still had the same disturbing effect on him. His heart rate increased dramatically, his breathing hitched and escalated, and all of the blood left his brain to gather somewhere else. It was humiliating, to say the least. He still…_wanted_. It wasn't a freak occurrence. He was able to reproduce the initial results quite predictably.

The second picture revealed a tantalizing and touching vulnerability in the green eyes that looked up at him, and Hikaru's body language was open and uncertain. _'Do you still want me?' _ he thought at the image of the other boy, a fine tremor beginning in his fingers. Akira scowled, trying to hold the picture with motionless fingers, but his body ignored his commands utterly.

It could have been…different. Hikaru didn't have to leave. Wouldn't have left if he hadn't been the way he always was with the bleach-banged boy. Cowardly. In Go he was aggressive and courageous, but he was _always_ afraid of the repercussions in _life_, so afraid of making a mistake that he never did anything at all. So many things had passed him by because he refused to move. Nothing else had ever truly mattered to him before, so it hadn't particularly disturbed him to lose all of those chances, all of those different paths. But it would mean something to him if he lost _this_ chance, this path.

The tremor in his hands increased, growing more noticeable. Akira laid his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. It didn't really matter, as he could see both images of Hikaru perfectly behind his eyelids, as well as dozens of others that he had never meant to commit to memory.

It seemed that his friend would not be trying to touch him anymore.

Hikaru was giving up on him. He could feel it. Everything he did now was dismissed as one more of 'Akira's stupid little baiting games', and he couldn't blame his rival for being distrustful of his motives and feelings. He couldn't even admit to _having _them.

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and drew his cell phone out. There were no calls. Calmly, he accessed his saved messages and put the phone up to his ear. Without moving, Akira listened once more to the twelve messages that Hikaru had left him.

He has listened to them perhaps a dozen times since that day, maybe more. He wasn't exactly keeping count.

_I want to hear your voice shake like that again…but not in pain. I've caused you too much pain already._

Akira wanted Hikaru to tell him clearly again how he felt, wanted the other boy to be open and vulnerable with him. But he hadn't exactly inspired confidence lately.

He thought fondly back to the first time they had kissed, when he'd had a glimpse of the secrets behind those shining green eyes. Hikaru _liked_ him. He just hadn't known what he was looking at back then. It had only been a few weeks since then, perhaps a month or so, but it seemed like years had gone by.

He _liked_ Hikaru. He didn't want to. Had tried to convince himself that he didn't. But today had convinced him that he wasn't fooling himself, that he was only confusing everyone else. But he didn't know where to go from here. Or even how to go about moving on. Did he want a relationship? Did he want to be closer? Should he try? Should he not try? Should he wait for Hikaru to do something, even if the other boy had said he wouldn't?

Would Hikaru laugh in his face if he said now, 'I like you'? Even _he_ had to admit that his rival should be slightly irritated with him on that count. He had certainly dragged his feet a great deal, confused matters and toyed with the other boy's emotions. All in the name of protecting himself. Hadn't he already decided that his skin was not more precious than Hikaru's? That he wanted to protect his friend, keep him from crying? But now _he_ was the one that was making Hikaru cry.

What did Hikaru want now? They'd never actually _discussed_ anything in regard to the strangeness between them. Did the bleach-banged boy only want kisses? Someone to go out with? Someone to experiment with him? Why did any of that need to be with Akira, if that was the case?

But what if that _wasn't_ the case?

Akira pressed his fingers to his lips, thoughtful. He didn't mind going out with Hikaru. Definitely didn't mind kissing him, for the most part. (Aside from being frightened the entire time.) As for experimenting…perhaps he wouldn't even mind that, if it was very slow. And very tame. He still didn't want the sex. He _didn't_.

The image of Hikaru sprawled across his bedroom floor came back to him. At least…he didn't want things done to _him_. But maybe…perhaps…he could do something to Hikaru? A little bit of something. Just to hear those noises again…more breathy moans like he'd heard last night when he had breathed into his friend's ear.

Akira opened his eyes, frowning at his reflection in the blank darkness of the television screen. In some ways, this was like their Go. If Hikaru made a play, then he needed to respond one way or another, whether it be by blocking the other boy…or by capturing his territory.

Capturing _all_ of his territory… Akira sighed, glancing down at the first picture again. What tactic…to surround the other boy so that he couldn't fight? He'd made too many mistakes at the beginning of their game and hadn't been paying attention. Now he needed a winning strategy. _If_ he intended to conquer his opponent.

He was only afraid that he wouldn't know what to do with the territory that he _did_ capture. What if he ended up with all of Hikaru – and didn't want him? It would destroy the bleach-banged boy. What if this wasn't truly what he wanted? What if it was only the fact that it was a challenge to him, and that it was in his nature to never turn away a challenge? Would it only be to prove that he _could_ recover at this point in the game, to prove that he _could_ capture Hikaru?

What if…?

Akira gently stroked his fingers over the surface of the real photograph that was lying in his lap, the one that Isumi had given him. He would have to remove his fingerprints later. He didn't want them to mar the photo, to destroy it. It needed to last forever.

_Forever. _

What _if_…?

* * *

Waya shifted restlessly on Isumi's couch, pounding the arm with a fist. "He really sounded broken up, Isumi! You didn't hear him. I'm worried."

Isumi gave him a concerned look. "What can we do, Waya? He didn't want us to come over. We can't make Touya care about him. Ultimately, we can't fix anything. We can only be his friends."

"That's not enough!" he exclaimed impatiently, a little annoyed with Isumi for being such a…such a rock.

"Weren't you the one that didn't talk to him for so long? What if he'd needed you one of those times he'd called?" Isumi was smiling faintly, but there was a slight edge behind the words.

"I know, I'm an asshole. It was stupid of me to treat him like that. How many times do I have to say that I know I'm a jerk? I'm going to have a complex soon. I would have felt horrible, okay? I was too busy wallowing in my own problems, my own pain."

Isumi's lips thinned, but the dark-haired boy made no other response to his tirade. "Regardless, we'll see him in a few days, and maybe we can do something for him then. Perhaps we'll be able to distract him for a little while."

"Not with _Touya_ sitting right next to him and making eyes at him, or touching his knee or something. I think he lives to torment Hikaru. He loves getting a reaction out of him, you know?"

Isumi sighed. "I don't think it's that simple, Waya. I think that Touya truly does have feelings for Hikaru, even if he doesn't know it, doesn't understand them or doesn't want to acknowledge them. I don't think that Touya is _that_ cruel."

"Hmph," Waya responded, making a face to show Isumi what he thought of _that_. "Can't we find someone for him?"

"I'm sure that Hikaru will find someone else when he's ready."

He rolled his eyes. "Isumi, Hikaru is a romantic _sap_. He'd probably never 'find someone else'. He'll just pine over Touya until he _dies_."

Isumi arched a brow at him. "Why do you think that?"

Waya shot his lover an incredulous look. "Come _on_, I know you've seen how he is with Touya. We've both been around them enough. He gets this sort of dazed and bewildered look in those big green eyes of his, and his attention span, while always really flaky, suddenly narrows to Touya. Have you ever tried to talk to him when he's focused on Touya? It's like…fucking mission impossible."

The dark-haired boy laughed. "Regardless, Waya…we can't interfere. They're going to have to find their own happy medium, whether that be together or apart…"

"Remind me to never ask you for help," Waya muttered. "You're so impartial that it's scary."

"I would assist you without a request. Always." Isumi's gaze had softened and was locked with his.

How did his friend manage to make eye contact so intimate? He had never felt as though anyone else was holding him when they met his eyes like this. "Uh, thanks. I'll remember that. And I'm here for you, too…" He didn't know how to deal with that kind of sentiment, but it touched him more deeply than he'd ever be able to express.

Waya was startled when Isumi's sock-clad foot touched his. "Soo…where is this tattoo that Hikaru says you have?"

"That little bastard!" he grumbled. "I didn't want anyone to see it."

"I'm quite surprised that I never found it, considering that I've seen all of you. Needless to say, I had to back-pedal a bit to keep Hikaru from guessing outright."

Waya grinned a little at the thought. "Yeah, he's surprisingly observant sometimes, isn't he?" He sighed, turning to sit with his back to Isumi, and lifted the fringe of his hair.

He felt Isumi move close, and fingers brushed over the tattoo, tracing the lines of it. He shivered at the feeling, closing his eyes.

"It's lovely," Isumi murmured softly, lightly kissing his ear.

"Isu_mi_, stop that!" Waya cried, squirming as the other boy's arms closed around him.

"You're no fun," the dark-haired boy whispered, lips searing the back of Waya's neck where the tattoo was.

It sent waves of hot and cold fire through his body from the point of contact, making him huddle in on himself. "I_sumi_…" he breathed.

"And you are _not_ on top next time…you have abused your privileges." Isumi's voice was low and dark, and seemed to reverberate in Waya's body, promising the amber-eyed boy that he would have no control.

He made a soft noise of agreement, knowing that he was in no position to argue. Isumi pressed him against the arm of the couch, body trapping his, and he shuddered with desire when he realized that his lover was already aroused and wanting him. "Whatever…you want," he gasped out, fingers digging into the arm of the couch.

Isumi bit the junction of his neck and shoulder and he was horrified to hear a squeak escape him. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The dark-haired boy chuckled behind him, arms snaking around his body to slide under his t-shirt and tease the skin of his hips and stomach.

"Isumi, why don't we go to the bed—"

"_No._ Here is fine."

Waya knew better than to argue with that tone, and was surprised to find that his shirt was being pulled over his head and tossed to the floor. "Um…are you sure we shouldn't go over to check on Hika—" He faltered as he watched Isumi's pale hands deftly unbutton his cargo pants and start dragging them down over his hips.

"Do you _really_ want to go over there?" Isumi whispered against the side of Waya's neck, one hand slipping down under his boxers to stroke him teasingly.

Waya gasped, throwing his head back against Isumi's shoulder. "_Ah…_maybe…later?" he replied tremulously, feeling the muscles in his legs already beginning to lose strength and quiver in response to his lover's demands.

"If you think you can manage that after this," the other boy growled softly as he completed the process of undressing Waya.

He swallowed, closing his eyes. "So, I'm the naked one, and you're fully—" A slick finger suddenly stroked his entrance, making him choke and open his eyes. When had Isumi managed to prepare…?!

"What's the matter?" Isumi murmured into his ear, one hand sliding down his stomach to wrap around him. That hand was slick, too.

"_Haa…ah…_" was sadly the only response he was able to make, even though he had intended on saying something like, 'What are you _doing_?'

The finger that was tormenting him chose that moment to slide into him, and he folded over the arm of the couch bonelessly, incapable of remaining up on his knees when Isumi was doing this to him.

"What's that?" Isumi asked sweetly. "I can't reach you like that. Lean back."

Waya struggled to comply, raising himself up to lean back against Isumi, who seemed to have no issue with remaining upright and stable. "Nnn….Isu…_mi_…" he managed to force out, his attempt at speech completely derailed by both hands touching him in concert. He could barely hold onto a single thought like this. Every time he tried to gather himself, the hand that held him stroked him even more sensuously, just as the hand behind him offered yet another finger to distract him. He could hardly bear it.

"Don't let me down, Waya," Isumi whispered, a smile in his voice.

He made senseless noises in response, his body feeling so flushed that he had a brief, broken thought fragment about the air conditioner having failed them at a time like this.

He felt like a helpless puppet in the dark-haired boy's arms, completely without strength or will of his own. Utterly without control. The thought overwhelmed him. "Cl…close…" Waya choked out.

"Is that so?" Isumi said softly, pausing. The hand in front of him released him for a moment before coming back into view with Isumi's t-shirt and flinging it over the arm of the couch.

Waya's eyes widened at the implications. "Bed…?"

"Ha."

Both hands withdrew from Waya for a moment, and he had an idea of what to expect as he heard Isumi doing _something._ He tried to brace himself. He really tried.

But when Isumi's hand returned to stroke him, and the other boy gently pushed him forward over the arm of the couch, he knew he'd be lost. He was barely able to hang onto the last of his dignity and control as it was, so when the dark-haired boy finally entered him, pressing inside with torturous care, he was panting and nearly in tears. He could only hope that these responses lessened, that Isumi wouldn't always make him this pitiful, spineless creature.

"Are you okay?" Isumi asked breathlessly.

"_Nnn..._aahh…_nn_…" Sure. Sure, he was fine, he just couldn't _talk_!

The other boy began thrusting into him in earnest, making him gasp each time. Waya closed his eyes, cheeks burning. In some way, he couldn't stand that he reacted this way, but in some small corner of his being, he loved the way Isumi made him helpless and took everything away but these feelings that made him want to be whatever his lover needed him to be.

_"Wider_…" Isumi panted.

Waya struggled to comply, but it was rather difficult when the dark-haired boy kept _doing_ that to him the entire time. His legs were trembling violently, the only things supporting him being the arm of the couch and Isumi's arms, and the hand attached to one of those arms was completely engaged in shredding his composure even further.

Isumi finally just paused and used a knee to spread Waya's legs a little wider, then resumed without saying a word, able to thrust even more deeply into Waya's body with the adjustment in position.

Waya cried out, his entire body beginning to shake as if it were going to explode into pieces. "Dam…_mit! Is…sss…_"

"More?" Isumi gasped out, still teasing him even now.

Unable to dignify that with a response, he could only moan through clenched teeth and try to keep breathing.

"You don't know…how much…how much I…" Isumi broke off, breathing too hard to continue. He began stroking Waya more quickly in time with his thrusts.

At this point, Waya's body relinquished all control, unable to stand any more. He tensed and cried out loudly, shuddering mindlessly over the arm of the couch as his ultimate response to Isumi's touch and presence inside of him compressed him and scattered him.

Isumi folded over on top of him, crying out in a deep, passionate voice, and Waya thought vaguely that if he hadn't already lost it, hearing that would have done it for him. As aftershocks rocked through his body, he finally regained some slight ability to think.

Isumi's movements began to slow and calm. "It was that…tattoo…" he whispered, stroking a hand down Waya's side.

"Hmph! _Your_ fault…that we made a damned mess. Tattoo is stupid…not _that_ fucking sexy."

"On _you_ it is," Isumi replied softly, kissing the back of his neck again.

"Gonna put a couple of band-aids over it. 'Specially if it gets me thrown over the arm of the couch!"

"You'll get thrown over the side of the couch no matter what you do," Isumi murmured.

Waya could have sworn that he heard a smirk in the other boy's voice. "We'll just see about that!" At least he wasn't quite as winded as the last time they'd done this. Perhaps he was becoming better able to handle having the sense knocked out of him by Isumi's touch than he had been before.

"Do you mind having sex on the couch _that_ much?" His lover sounded way too amused.

"Not sex," Waya muttered rebelliously. "You called it making love."

"What?" Isumi whispered, sounding startled.

"You heard me. Isn't that what you called it?"

"But you don't—"

Waya twisted around quickly, putting his fingers over Isumi's lips to stop the words. Those blue eyes were wide as they gazed down at him. "No," he whispered, meeting that gaze with earnest eyes. "Don't say it. It's not just 'sex'…not to you…and not to _me_."

The dark-haired boy's eyes widened even further before closing in what looked like absolute joy.

Waya found himself dragged into a tight embrace that crushed the air out of his lungs, but he didn't really mind. He felt Isumi kiss the top of his head and only smiled a little.

"Waya…Waya…when you say things like that…it makes me so happy that I almost can't bear it." Isumi's voice was shaking with emotion.

"I'm happy, too," he murmured back, returning Isumi's embrace just as tightly. After a moment of warm bliss, he drew back a little, raising his brows as he saw that Isumi hadn't even completed undressing. "That's sad, really sad." His lover had apparently only managed to remove his t-shirt to protect the couch, and hadn't bothered to completely remove his jeans _or_ boxers. They were around Isumi's knees.

Isumi blushed a little, looking shy. "It just…happened. I couldn't help it."

Waya just shook his head. "Do you want to take a shower? I think we need a shower."

"You're beautiful, Waya. Did you know that?" Isumi's eyes were somber and full of emotion as they looked at him.

"No one has ever said that before, so I wasn't aware," he replied with a grin. "Should I be worried, since I'm supposed to be a boy?" He was only teasing as he said it, for he found Isumi to be beautiful, too.

"No, you just need to be without clothing more often," the other boy replied with a slight smirk, smacking Waya's backside.

"Isumi!"

The only response was his lover's laughter.

* * *


	23. Drowning It Out

**A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews! I'm sorry for the aaannngsst! . But I must write it this way, I _must!_ Don't worry – I'm not shooting for a depression fic. We will have happy times and other good things soon! ;) Updates will drop down to a chapter every weekend, but please bear with it! I'll update as often as possible.**

**Ahhh!! I'm so sorry about the lack of breaks within chapters! I had no idea that it chewed up my original breaks and spit them out...please forgive me. You poor, poor souls. I'm surprised that none of you yelled at me:) I'm loving the reviews - thank you so much for all of the love and feedback! I'll be replying!**

* * *

Hikaru stared sullenly into his glass, idly shaking it every so often to hear the melting ice cubes shift with a _clink_. It was vaguely satisfying, and sounded infinitely better than the music that was droning on in the background. 

He was doing his best to tune out the murmur of voices around him. Despite being a small, dark little club that was fairly deserted due to it being a Wednesday night, it still seemed much too loud to his ears, too crowded for his fragile mindset.

"Are you just going to watch your ice cubes melt, or what?" asked a warm voice.

It took him a moment to realize that the question was addressed to him. Slowly, he looked to his left. He hadn't even realized that someone had taken the stool beside him.

The man that had addressed him had feathery dark hair that fell to his shoulders and earnest dark eyes. He was regarding Hikaru with an expression that was both open and friendly. Hikaru continued to assess him mutely, still not quite connected to reality.

The stranger's expression changed to one of concern. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he muttered flatly, dropping his gaze to stare at the countertop in front of the other man.

"Wow. Well, let's try this. My name is Fujie Kota. Just Kota is fine, though."

"Shindou Hikaru. Shindou is fine."

Kota was silent for a moment, as if uncertain as to what he should do in such a situation. He seemed to recover quickly enough, however. "So, Shindou, what brings you here on a Wednesday night? Summer vacation will be ending in a couple of weeks. Don't you have to be studying for anything?"

"I don't go to school anymore," Hikaru replied monotonically.

"Oh? Graduated already?" Kota sounded surprised.

Did he look that young? He'd be 18 in September. "No, just stopped going in order to pursue my career."

"Really now! And what might that be?"

Was that amusement in Kota's voice?? He slanted a suspicious glance at the other man. "I play Go professionally."

Now Kota really _did_ look surprised. "Is that so? But…you're so young."

"I'll be 18 soon," he returned a little sharply, annoyed. "What's so young about that? You don't look so old, yourself."

Kota smiled at him. "No, I'm 23. I just graduated from Tokyo University. I'm just not quite sure of what I want to do with myself."

Hikaru looked away, even more irritated. Was this guy some sort of Akira clone that he mentioned such an achievement so casually? "So what are you doing around here, then?"

The other man shrugged, sunny smile breaking out yet again. "My family lives in this area, so I moved back and decided to live here until I decided on my future."

It was disturbing to see someone smiling at him so much. It was very unlike Akira. There was no blazing intensity in Kota's eyes, just a sort of gentle warmth. "Ah. I suppose I'll just remain a pro until I die. There's nothing else that I want to do."

_Akira facing him across a Go-ban, eyes shimmering like a heat mirage in their intensity..._

Kota discreetly signaled the bartender to bring Hikaru another drink, then turned back to their conversation. "So, again – what's a pro doing hanging out in a bar as if he has nothing better to do with his time?"

The man was rather invasive, Hikaru decided, but he answered anyway. "There's a break between tournaments, and no one is playing for titles right now. They're trying to convince Touya…Touya Meijin to make an official comeback, but he isn't interested."

"Why do they care?" Kota asked, looking perplexed.

Hikaru shrugged. "He's a very challenging and interesting man, skilled beyond belief. He motivates the younger players, and he's good publicity for the Go community."

"Shouldn't you be practicing, then?" Kota prodded, tone teasing.

The bartender set down Hikaru's drink down before him, and he took a large sip before answering. "I've slept, dreamt and breathed Go since I was 12. I don't think slacking off a little right now is going to kill me."

_No, it'll be something else._

"Touché. I'm sure you're right, Shindou." Kota fell silent, graceful hands cupped around his own glass.

Hikaru blinked a couple of times as he realized that Kota _did_ resemble Akira somewhat. The man beside him had a slender build just like Akira's, if not quite as delicate, and his hands were long-fingered and capable-looking, yet endowed with an underlying grace, just like Akira's. Even the way Kota's hair fell was similar, though the bangs weren't cut straight across like his rival's were.

But Kota's attitude, manner of speaking and personality were completely different from his friend's. He would have fallen to his knees and begged for the aqua-eyed pro to treat him even _this_ warmly, or to persist in trying to wring information out of him the way this man was. Was the attitude of caring and interest genuine? But how could it be? He was a stranger to Kota.

_Akira…_

Hikaru closed his eyes, grip tightening on his glass. His mind could never be numbed enough to forget about Akira. Never. No matter how much he drank, or even if he resorted to other substances. It would make no difference. It would only ruin his career – the only thing he had left.

"Hey," Kota's voice said softly from beside him.

It seemed so far away. He felt a hand touch the middle of his back, as if it was trying to comfort him, and he allowed it. It remained there. He managed to open his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at Kota.

The other man seemed even more concerned than before, and was leaning down a little in an attempt to get a look at his face. "Shindou?" As soon as Kouta saw his expression, the other man's changed as well. "I _knew_ you were here for some other reason."

"No reason," Hikaru mumbled, trying to maintain his focus on strangling his glass so that he wouldn't disgrace himself by breaking down before strangers.

Kota was watching him with somber eyes. "You don't have to talk about anything to me. I'm just some random stranger. But…is it okay if I want to know you?"

Hikaru heard the interest in Kota's voice, saw it in his manner. This was what he had come to this particular club for. It did, after all, have a reputation.

"Sure," he heard himself say softly.

Kota's hand left his back. "Are you sure you can handle getting home on your own?"

"Yes, but I don't think I'm ready to leave just yet. After all, we've only just met. I'd like to talk to you a little more." He didn't feel it. He didn't feel it at _all_. But at least Kota faintly resembled Akira. That made it a little easier - and infinitely harder.

Kota looked doubtful as well, but pleased nonetheless. "I'm so glad to hear that. I'll try to take your mind off of whatever is bothering you, Shindou."

"Don't worry about it," Hikaru murmured, forcing himself to stop trying to kill his glass. As his fingers loosened, he felt that his death-grip on his hope did, as well.

_Is this all it is, Akira? Is this it? Was it my imagination that you felt something? It's time for me to give up on you, now… isn't it? But why does it have to **hurt** so much?_

Hikaru closed his eyes and dredged up his best smile, offering it to Kota.

* * *

"Akira, aren't you ready to come home yet? If you apologize to your father and promise never to see that boy again, I'm certain that he would forgive you." 

Akira scowled into his empty refrigerator, irritated despite the pleading tone of his mother's voice. "No. I'm not coming back, and I am certainly not apologizing to father. Before all of that, ceasing to see Hikaru is the very last thing I'd ever do."

"But _why_? Isn't your family more important to you? I thought I raised you better than this."

He slammed the refrigerator door closed. "Of course family is important to me, mother, but I have to make my own decisions if I'm to be an adult. Can't you and father understand that?" He was struggling to keep his voice level, as he had no desire to snap at his mother.

"What we can't understand is why you choose to make the decision to keep seeing that boy. He's a bad influence on you, Akira. If it weren't for him, none of this would ever have happened."

"You're right. I would have remained living at home, doing whatever father asked of me. I would never have lived my own life. Wouldn't _that_ have been convenient? But I can't do that, mother. I see Hikaru because he is the focus of my life. The _joy_ in my life. The only non-Go thing that I focus on."

"Can't you find something healthier to focus on? You're my son and I love you, and I don't want to see this happen to our family."

Akira exhaled through clenched teeth. "He _is_ healthy for me! Without Hikaru, I would be only Go, mother. Father raised me on nothing else but that damned game, and I _love_ Go, but I didn't even know what _feelings_ or _friends_ were before that silly boy tripped into my life."

His mother was silent for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice trembled as if she were about to burst into tears. "So you _are_ in a relationship with him?"

Akira slammed his fist down on the kitchen counter, throwing his head back to glare at his ceiling. Give him strength! "_No_, mother, we are _not_ in a relationship. Besides, neither you or father ever bothered to get to know him, so how can you act as if he's the worst thing that ever happened to me?"

"Son…do you love that boy?"

He almost dropped the phone. "W-what?" he asked, shocked.

"Akira, it's not a strange question for me to ask. After all, you were never disobedient or outspoken before, but since meeting him, you've gone to any extreme you deemed necessary, and all for his sake. At least, that's how it looks to us."

"Just because he's important to me doesn't mean that I feel…_that_. That's just bizarre, mother."

"It's _not_ bizarre! It seems the only likely conclusion with how you've been acting! The only one blind to it is you!"

Was that _true_? Feeling shaken, he responded coldly. "If this is the only purpose of your call, I think we're done speaking now. Take care, mother. I'll talk to you later." He put the received back in its cradle, resisting the impulse to _slam_ it down.

"What have you _done_ to me?" he asked Hikaru with quiet intensity, although the other boy wasn't there to hear him. Indeed, that was the only way that he'd ever ask such a question - without anyone there to hear it, without anyone there to respond to it.

He was in a foul mood. There was nothing to have as a late breakfast or an early lunch in his refrigerator - indeed, there was nothing at _all_. If he had only gone shopping last night instead of wasting his time staring at mildly scandalous pictures of his rival, he'd have something to _eat_ right now.

To have his mother call to prattle at him on an empty stomach, in this state of mind, set him absolutely on edge. To top it off, he'd had a peculiar message from Hikaru on his cell phone when he'd woken up this morning. Thankfully it hadn't woken him up, as his cell had been off for once.

The call had come in at 2:41 A.M., and Hikaru had sounded _very_ drunk. After listening to much slurring and giggling, Akira had managed to piece together what _sounded_ like an invitation to hang out with Hikaru-and-friends on Sunday. What was Hikaru doing getting that drunk? It made him worry all over again about what was going on with the bleach-banged boy.

_Was it because of _**me **_again, Hikaru? _

The very idea made him feel a little nauseous. What did he imagine he could do, though, if he couldn't even express his feelings to Hikaru?

_Stop _**hurting **_yourself, especially on _**my **_account! _

It was beginning to drive him mad, he felt certain. The dull ache that he had felt when Hikaru had turned down his offer to stay for the night persisted, never leaving him for a moment. Some part of him couldn't understand why Hikaru would turn him down. Though he was quite aware that the other boy most likely thought that he wasn't serious, it pained something else within him – something that had nothing to do with logical or spoken reasons.

_Don't you _**trust** _me? _

That was the crux of it, wasn't it? Hikaru didn't trust him anymore. He had hurt his friend too much, toyed with those emotions once too often. Perhaps he'd have a chance to make it right when he saw them all on Sunday, but he truly wanted to see Hikaru sooner than that. Alone.

Akira turned back to the phone in the kitchen, picking the receiver up again. He dialed Hikaru's cell number from memory and waited. He was just about to hang up, disappointed, when the other pro answered.

"Hello?" Hikaru said, sounding as if he'd just been laughing.

Akira's heart lifted. "It's…me. I wondered if…perhaps you would like to go somewhere today? I—"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Akira. I'm out with a friend right now, and I'm pretty sure I won't be back before this afternoon."

Akira felt his eyes widen as his throat tightened with disappointment. "Well…what about tonight? Are you doing something tonight?"

"Actually, yeah. I'm going out again later, probably clubbing, so I know you wouldn't be interested in that."

He drew back, staring at the receiver as if it had been hijacked by aliens before bringing it back to his ear. Had he heard that correctly? Was he still in the proper reality? "Maybe…not." It certainly didn't sound as if Hikaru had been inviting him along, anyway. "How about tomorrow?"

"Geez, Akira, I really can't. I'm probably going to be out that day, too."

_Doing **what**?_ He wanted to ask the question, but he dare not. If he did, it would explode out of him. "You _can't_?" he repeated back, barely remaining in control of his voice.

"Nope, afraid not. I'll see you on the weekend at Isumi's though. You got my message, right?"

"I…did, yes."

"Do you need me to pick you up to go to Isumi's?" Hikaru chirruped, sounding good-natured and effervescent.

Akira felt the urge to examine the receiver again, but restrained himself. Hikaru was typically energetic, true, but _this_ was over the top. "That…would be agreeable. Thank you."

"Sure, no problem. See you then!"

He opened his mouth to say something else, _anything_ else to keep Hikaru with him, but the line was already dead. "What do you mean, you _can't_!" he snarled at the receiver before slamming it back into its cradle.

How could Hikaru not have _time_ for him? For _him_! He'd never been so brushed off by the other boy before, _never_. He felt positively _betrayed_. Akira didn't like the feelings of pain and loss that came with the anger. Which friend was it that deserved so much of the bleach-banged boy's time? It couldn't be Waya or Isumi, could it?

Some sharp-edged, sour emotion was churning within him, filling him with the urge to break something. He clung to his control determinedly, refusing to have some childish fit of pique just because Hikaru was ignoring him.

He would find out who it was, and he would do something about it. Perhaps he only needed to make himself a little clearer, a little more available. That way Hikaru wouldn't need to spend time with anyone else.

Akira would make it clear to him, somehow.

* * *

Hikaru grinned, leaning slightly into Kota as they sat down on a deserted bench in the park. They hadn't seen anyone for the last fifteen minutes. "I've really enjoyed hanging out with you today, Kota." 

"I didn't think you were going to survive your hangover _or_ being dragged out of bed, though," Kota replied with a chuckle.

"The coffee helped. Thank you for breakfast…and lunch…and I really never thought I'd actually enjoy window shopping and all, but I did."

The other man made a sound of agreement, arm slipping down from the back of the bench to lie across Hikaru's shoulders.

"I didn't realize I'd given you my cell number," he murmured thoughtfully.

"You did. You also called your friend to invite him to some weekend get-together while we were still at the club. I tried to persuade you not to, as it was in the middle of the night, but you insisted, so…it's difficult to say no to you, you know."

Hikaru glanced at Kota and found that the other man's face was quite close to his, gaze serious and focused. "No, I didn't know," he replied quietly. He almost tensed at the look in his companion's eyes, almost pulled away, but remembered that if he did, he'd be back to square one – finding someone to focus on besides Akira. Not to mention needing to have a boyfriend in case Amari really did try to turn the Go community against Akira. Hikaru had to make himself the larger target, just in case something happened.

Kota lifted a hand, brushing the backs of his fingers lightly against Hikaru's cheek, a question in his dark eyes. Hikaru swallowed, feeling both anxious and flattered that someone was actually interested in him like this. His heart was about to beat itself right out of his chest. This was _nerve-wracking_.

He closed his eyes, signaling to Kota that yes, it would be all right to kiss him. Within moments, he felt warm lips press against his. It was a far cry from Akira's kiss, but it was still quite pleasant. When a wet warmth pressed against the seal of his lips, he allowed it to pass - allowed Kota to kiss him intimately.

It still felt quite different from how it felt to kiss the girls, and stirred his body a little, besides. It wasn't the violent passion that surged whenever he and Akira were close, and for that he was thankful. It almost hurt to be close to the other pro, to want him so much, to _feel_ him so much. He could handle _this_ easily.

Kota drew back, fingers tangling in the back of Hikaru's hair, and leaned his forehead against Hikaru's. "Shindou," the other man whispered, gazing into his eyes warmly.

"Hm?" he replied.

"Can I…could we…date? I would like to be your…boyfriend. You _are_ single, aren't you?" Kota suddenly looked apprehensive.

Hikaru laughed, and it sounded somewhat bitter to his own ears. "Yes, yes, I'm single. No one wants me, Kota."

"_I_ want you," Kota whispered a little fiercely, favoring Hikaru with another quick kiss. "Will you be with me?"

"Yes," he murmured, smiling. It was so nice to be wanted, to be sought after by someone. And Kota was…cute. Very cute.

He still felt horrible about having to blow Akira off earlier, but what did it matter? Even though it iced his heart to deny the other boy anything, or to push Akira away when he had come seeking, it wasn't as if his rival would be hurt. Akira wouldn't care beyond being indignant that Hikaru _dared_ to have something better to do than to be jerked around by him. He'd be seeing the other boy soon enough, anyway.

"Hikaru? You're spacing out on me again." Kota's smile was tempered by concern.

"Don't worry about it, Kota, I'll be fine. Thank you for worrying about me."

Kota pulled him closer, fingers lightly stroking Hikaru's arm.

_I'm sorry, Akira. I tried to give you all of my time…but you didn't want it. I tried to give you all of me. Things can't always be…only the way you want them. _

_I'm sorry. I'm going to drown your voice in Kota until I can't hear it anymore. _


	24. Torazu San Moku

A/N: You guys are the best! I'm sooo sorry for the uber-angst. I promise that it gets better! These chapters will probably be the worst angst in the fic. It's going to heat up a bit in the next chapter, _trust_ me. evil grin

**_Please don't stone me for the flagrant abuse of Go terms in this chapter! I'm trying not to mangle them. :D _**

**And don't kill Akira! He can't help being dense. Poor boy has only had a few weeks in which to consider a relationship with Hikaru. This is all quite new to him! I know it's frustrating, but this is _Akira_ we're talking about. ;) **

**See the end of this chapter for chapter title note. **

* * *

Waya couldn't help but arch a brow. He was trying not to show his disbelief, or check Hikaru's sanity, but it was hard. He was able to watch his friend quite easily, as he was sitting across the table from him. 

It had all started when Touya and Hikaru had arrived at Isumi's apartment approximately 30 minutes ago. He'd noticed that the bleach-banged boy seemed frantically ecstatic and way too talkative, whereas Touya was even more subdued than usual.

Being hungry, however, his priority had been to get everyone to the restaurant. Now that they were here, he could no longer avoid noticing that Hikaru was acting stranger than usual. Just the other night, the little freak had been so depressed that he'd scared Waya into thinking that a suicide watch was in order. But _now_, looking at this cheerful, hyperactive Hikaru, he was beginning to think that either commitment or medication was in order.

"…is the best video game ever, I swear—" Hikaru was rambling.

Waya took the opportunity to break in and rescue everyone. "Whoa, buddy, you've had _way_ too much airtime. Shut _up_! Have you even been practicing your Go? 'Cause all I've heard you talk about for the last umpteen-thousand minutes are games and clothes. What are you, a girl?"

"Waya!" Hikaru exclaimed, looking slightly wounded.

"Isn't that right, Touya?" Waya asked, fishing for assistance from the person most likely to agree with him that Hikaru talked too much.

The aqua-eyed boy lifted his head suddenly, looking as if he'd been shaken from a lucid dream. "What's that?"

"Did Hikaru's babbling put you into a coma?" Waya remarked wryly.

"I…no, I didn't mind." Touya stared down at the table, motionless.

Hikaru had dropped his chin into his hand and was now gazing at Touya as if seeing something fascinating for the first time. There was a faint, fake smile on his face, but Waya could see the focus that it masked.

Their drinks arrived, and Touya latched onto his soda and began steadily sipping it, nursing it as if he wished it were something stronger.

Waya felt that he'd have to arch his other brow soon if things kept up this way.

"What would _you_ rather talk about, Wa_ya_?" Hikaru taunted, making a face at him.

Hikaru had dark circles under his eyes, even though those eyes were bright and alert. Waya couldn't put his finger on it, but something was definitely still off about the bleach-banged boy.

Isumi saved him the trouble of responding, leaning forward to engage Hikaru. "So, Hikaru, when are you and Touya going to get together, hmm?" Isumi was smiling as if he meant it.

Probably did. _Sap_. But _his_ sap. Waya grinned to himself.

Touya had stilled even further if that was possible, though he continued to drain his glass in a rather determined fashion.

Hikaru almost flinched, but recovered so quickly that only Waya and Isumi saw it. "Isumi, you know that Akira isn't interested. Anyway, I already _have_ a boyfriend."

Touya sputtered in shock, spewing soda out quite spectacularly _and_ knocking over his drink.

"Holy shit, Touya!" Waya barked, leaping up to get out of the path of danger.

Touya was oblivious to his distress, coughing and pale. Before anyone could say anything else, the aqua-eyed boy fled towards the restroom, not even bothering to right the knocked over glass.

"Wow," Isumi murmured, blue eyes wide.

Hikaru, stunned, was staring after Touya and completely ignoring the two of them. He half-rose as if to go after the other pro.

"No, Hikaru, it's all right – I'll go check on him," Isumi offered, pursuing.

Waya threw up his hands and sighed explosively. "We can't do _anything_ without Touya making a scene. Honestly, Hikaru, what do you see in that guy?"

Hikaru turned to give him a bleak look before resuming staring after Touya.

"This is going to be a great day," he muttered.

* * *

Isumi entered the restroom to find Touya leaning over a sink, water running. The other boy was braced against the counter, staring at the running water with wide, unfocused eyes. 

"Touya?" he said quietly.

Touya blinked very slowly, then began to make use of the water, never looking at Isumi. "How humiliating," the other pro hissed, streaks of color appearing on his deathly white cheeks.

Isumi was relieved to see the color finally come back into that waxen face. "Is…there something more to this…?" he began tentatively.

"He didn't tell me," Touya said in a conversational tone. "I didn't know. I didn't guess at all. He didn't tell me. How could I have been so ignorant? How could he have…"

Isumi waited, uncertain of how to proceed.

Suddenly, Touya whipped around to face him, eyes wide and blazing. "Did _you_ know? Was he laughing at me? When I asked him…" Those aqua eyes glazed over again.

He had drawn back at the sudden passion, but stepped forward again as he watched Touya helplessly scrubbing at his stained shirt. "No, I didn't know. And I don't think that Hikaru would ever laugh at you, Touya. He truly cares about you. More than you wanted him to, I thought."

Touya paused in his frantic ministrations, raising confused eyes to Isumi. "Does he? Care, that is. I…I…of course I don't want him to stop caring. He's the most important person in my life."

"Are you saying that you care about him like that, Touya?" Isumi felt grateful that he and Waya had never gone through a dance quite as elaborate as this one was.

Touya flung the useless paper towels in the trash can, but did not turn to face Isumi again. "Like _this_, like _that_…what does it matter? I want to be around him all of the time. I want _all_ of his time."

"You can't have all of his time unless you're closer than you want to be, Touya. Perhaps that is why there is so much confusion between the two of you. Hikaru wants you as his partner, and you want a best friend without any other focus in life. Your goal is unrealistic. You two have actually managed to prolong this strange phase of being each other's sole focus for much longer than I thought you could."

Touya's stance was rigid and uncommunicative, body guarding its owner's secrets perfectly.

Isumi sighed. "You brought him here to this point. He won't leave the Go world, but the time he spends with you is bound to taper off. You're losing him—"

The other boy pivoted sharply to face him, aqua eyes desperate. "Do you think that I don't _know_ that!" Touya cried harshly.

He stopped, staring. This was the most emotion he'd ever seen from Touya. "If you know, then what are you _doing_? Do you want to be with him or not?"

The aqua-eyed pro closed his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. "I'm…trying, Isumi. I've tried. But I'm so afraid. I don't know what to do. I don't know what I want. And now it doesn't matter, because he has someone that _does_."

"Are you going to be all right?" he asked gently.

"No," Touya whispered, hand moving with a slight tremor.

"What can I do?"

"Please…just go out and make excuses for me. I'll go back to the table as soon as I regain my composure."

Isumi couldn't seem to stop staring at the nearly emotionally naked Touya Akira before him. And that was over Hikaru? How had it gotten to this point without him noticing, or without Hikaru and Touya resolving it in some way or another?

Apparently Hikaru thought that getting a boyfriend would resolve the situation. But by the looks of things, it was only going to add more pain and difficulty. And he couldn't very well tell the bleach-banged boy to break up with his new boyfriend because Touya Akira _seemed_ prepared for a relationship now. Besides, that was Touya's place.

Isumi turned and left the restroom, aching for Hikaru and Touya. There was nothing that he could do to help them. He could see both sides. He understood Touya's paralyzing fear and uncertainty, but at the same time he knew that Hikaru couldn't be expected to wait and suffer until the other boy made up his mind – _if_ he ever made up his mind.

Waya and Hikaru were staring at him expectantly as he approached.

"The food is going to be here any minute!" Hikaru blurted out, looking annoyed. But those green eyes kept darting back in the direction of the restroom.

"He said he'll be out in a moment. You know how Touya is about this sort of thing. He's terribly embarrassed."

Hikaru looked away. "He was probably disgusted that I shared that with everyone. Caused him to have a seizure or something."

Isumi sighed. Why couldn't Touya tell Hikaru _anything_ clearly? "_I_ was a little surprised. When on earth did you get a boyfriend?"

"Thursday. I met him Wednesday night." Hikaru favored he and Waya with a defiant look.

"That's rather…" He was at a loss.

"Sudden!" Waya finished accusingly.

"What am I _supposed_ to do?" Hikaru replied in a tense, low voice, gesturing sharply. "I can't take much more of living in a dark bedroom."

Isumi shook his head. "Are you happy with this boyfriend? What _is_ his name, anyway?"

"His name is Kota. Happy…what's happy?" Hikaru laughed sharply. "I know that _you_ two have that, and that's great, but happiness might not be possible for everyone, you know."

Waya frowned. "You shouldn't be with this Kota guy if you're not into him, Hikaru."

The bleach-banged boy glared at Waya. "And what the _fuck_ else am I supposed to do, Waya? The person I'm 'into' isn't into _me_." Hikaru's once-bright green eyes were dark, full of anger and misery.

"You don't have to be a jerk about it," Waya muttered.

"Hikaru, Waya's right. Perhaps we should cut this short if you're in this kind of mood."

"What, are you two only my friends when I'm being bubbly, happy-go-lucky Hikaru?" Hikaru's hands were on his hips, now, his chin lifted in a challenging attitude.

"It isn't that, and you know it. Waya and I were fully prepared to come over the other night. But you might not want to be showing this to Touya, at the very least." He nodded very slightly towards the restrooms.

Touya was making his way back from the restroom slowly, head down.

Hikaru glanced at the other boy, then closed his eyes briefly. "Fine."

As soon as the aqua-eyed pro had regained his seat, the rest of them sat down and Hikaru began giving a detailed account of how much fun he'd had with his boyfriend, how they'd met, etc, etc.

Touya looked as if someone were beating him the entire time.

He and Waya pretended not to notice.

* * *

Akira maintained a pose of contented sleep on the brief ride back, trying to focus on enjoying the warm breeze that flirted through his hair. Hikaru hadn't said a word to him since they'd left the restaurant, or indeed, spoken a word that had been directly addressed to him since they'd left Akira's apartment earlier in the day. He was being personally ignored even though he was included in the group. 

He was painfully aware of the silence beside him. Hikaru hadn't even turned on any music. There was only the sun and the wind. It was almost as if the other boy wasn't even with him. He had never known his rival to be this silent.

Akira heard the car slow and come to a stop, the shifting into 'park' and the windows going up. At last the engine was turned off. He slightly opened the eye closest to his friend and was surprised to note that the other boy's head was turned towards him as though looking at him, even though the sunglasses masked where those green eyes might be gazing.

As if aware of his scrutiny, Hikaru immediately looked away. "Hey, wake up, Akira. We're here."

"I'm awake," he answered quietly.

Hikaru paused, head turning towards him again. "I wonder," the other boy replied softly before getting out of the car.

What was _that_ supposed to mean? He followed his rival out of the car and up the stairs. Isumi and Waya were just pulling up, so they had to wait at the door a minute. Naturally Isumi drove more slowly than Hikaru did.

Akira studied his friend for a moment, as Hikaru was staring with apparent concentration at the door as if willing it to open. He couldn't seem to find anything different or unusual about the bleach-banged boy today, aside from his usual uniqueness.

The other pro was wearing blue jeans and a white tank top that said 'out of order' across the front in blocky black letters, as well as a pair of his favorite black and yellow sneakers. There was nothing about the other boy that told Akira that he had just acquired a boyfriend, or that he was withdrawing from their friendship.

_'I miss you,'_ he thought fervently at the back of Hikaru's head, wishing that he could somehow reach the distant person that stood so close to him.

As Waya and Isumi walked up, Waya punched Hikaru in the arm, and Hikaru retaliated in kind. As they were scuffling, Isumi nonchalantly unlocked the door and pushed it open, waving Akira in. "Come on, they could be at this all day."

"—sissy little girly boy!" Waya was teasing, having wrestled Hikaru into a headlock.

"Ahhh! Akira, help me!" Hikaru managed to catch his sunglasses just as they were falling off, and tossed them to Akira.

He almost dropped them, not expecting to have anything launched at him, but he supposed he should know better than that when it came to his rival. He tucked them into his shirt pocket and went inside, leaving Hikaru to Waya's mercy.

Isumi sat down on the couch, rolling his eyes at the howls and laughter still drifting in from outside. "Come on, you two!" he called. "You're going to annoy my neighbors!"

Hikaru came in after Waya, feigning a kick at the back of one of the other boy's legs before closing the door behind them. "I always knew you were hiding something, Waya! You gave yourself away by calling me a queer for so long. You always loved to harp on me."

"Don't make me punish you!" Waya exclaimed with a fierce grin, acting as if he were about to leap upon Hikaru again.

Hikaru threw his hands up to protect himself. "NO, noooo! Please, Waya. Geez."

"Hmph, then stop asking for it, punk!" Waya flopped down on the couch beside Isumi.

The bleach-banged boy smirked, then turned to face Akira, mirth fading. "Let's play a game, Akira." Those green eyes were quite serious.

"That's fine with me," Akira murmured. "Isumi, may we use your room and Go-ban?"

"Sure, we'll be out here."

He inclined his head in thanks and headed into the bedroom, Hikaru practically stepping on his heels. As soon as they were both inside the room, the other boy closed the door behind them.

Akira turned to face him, backing away slightly, uncertain of his rival's intentions.

Hikaru examined him for a moment, making no move. "So what was with that reaction at the restaurant?"

Ignoring the question for a moment, he retrieved the Go-ban from under Isumi's desk and set it up between them, calming himself with the familiar ritual. "I was surprised."

"That's an understatement. So why does it bother you? Does it disgust you so much?"

Akira looked up at that, startled, and met Hikaru's vulnerable gaze. "What? No. I just didn't expect it. I thought that we were friends, _best_ friends, and that you would tell me those sorts of things. How long have you been with him, anyway?"

"I met Kota Wednesday night and we began dating Thursday. I don't know why it matters, but I would have told you if I'd known that it wouldn't have bothered you." Hikaru's expression was wary.

He couldn't help but be shocked. The other boy was moving fast. "W-why?" Akira blurted out stupidly, staring up into those eyes.

The bleach-banged boy approached, kneeling before the Go-ban as Akira had done. "I told you that I would. Remember, the alibi for my affections in case Amari really does try to damage you in the Go community?"

"Is that all?" he asked, feeling disappointed in Hikaru.

The other boy frowned. "That and I'm sick of making passes at someone that only shoots me down. At least Kota wants it." His friend ran a hand through his bleached bangs, glaring at the Go-ban in absolute annoyance.

Wants it. _It._ His chest felt too tight. He couldn't breathe. "What…what have you done?" Akira managed to force out through the lead in his lungs.

The other pro arched a brow at him. "That's rather personal, don't you think?"

Akira felt his hands clench into fists where they rested on his thighs. He stared down at them, unable to hold Hikaru's gaze anymore, and thought that his vision became just a little blurry. "_Please_," he whispered.

He sensed Hikaru's shock, but did not look up. "Ah…we've kissed and made out. Stuff like that. He took me shopping, and we went out to eat, and we went to the arcade yesterday and played until we couldn't stand it anymore. He's really great, and he's handsome, too. He graduated from Tokyo University, you know—"

Akira felt his brain shut down. He wasn't capable of listening to any more of what made this Kota character so wonderful and fabulous. In fact, he was feeling distinctly ill. With someone like that, Hikaru would never go elsewhere. Would never walk away.

He forced himself to interrupt. "So _that's_ why you wouldn't go anywhere with me the other day. That's why you wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't tell me what was going on." His voice sounded flat to him. Distant.

"Well, it's rude to talk on the phone when you're on a date, you know." Hikaru was giving him a strained smile.

"When do _I_ get to spend time with you?" Akira asked coolly. He didn't mean to express himself that way, but it happened, especially when he was feeling insecure and wounded.

"You're so demanding! Boyfriends get more time than best friends. Now that I have a boyfriend, I can't spend as much time with you anymore. We'll see each other during matches, and maybe during tutoring sessions. I already have a few people lined up that I'll be tutoring soon. I'm sure you do, too. So you'll be busy, too, Akira."

Isumi had been correct. "When?" he repeated.

"Why don't I spend some time tomorrow with you? We'll go to the mall or something. Kota has to work anyway."

Something about the statement disturbed him – disturbed him like a stab to the vitals. Was Hikaru only willing to spend time with him because Kota was unavailable? It didn't bear thinking about.

"Is it the kissing and making out?" he was horrified to hear himself ask, still avoiding the other boy's eyes.

"Is _what_ the kissing and making out?" Hikaru asked, sounding annoyed.

"Is that why you want to spend more time with him?"

"Well, I have to say I'm a little insulted. No. I want a relationship. That's why I want to spend time with Kota."

"What are relationships like?" Akira murmured, unable to see the Go-ban anymore even though he was staring directly at it.

"For god's sake, Akira, nigiri already!" Hikaru exclaimed, exasperated.

"Stop being rude to me!" he snapped, meeting the other boy's eyes in his irritation. He was mollified to see that his friend looked slightly cowed.

"I wasn't trying to be. But you're acting pretty strange today."

"Relationships?"

Hikaru sighed. "I don't even know, Akira. I've never really had one. I imagine that a good one would be warm and comfortable. But it would depend. For instance—" The bleach-banged boy suddenly fell silent, looking to the side thoughtfully.

"For instance…?" he prompted eagerly.

The other pro sighed, meeting his gaze again with weary, pained eyes. "For instance…with you, it would have been far from comfortable and warm."

Akira wilted, looking down at his hands again. "Ah. I thought you said that you used to want that."

"It would have been blazing and intense," Hikaru murmured, contemplating the white stones in the Go-ke.

He stared openly at his rival, fascinated by the passion that he saw flicker through those eyes. It disappeared in a moment, but perhaps it meant that there was still something there...for Touya Akira.

"Doesn't it 'blaze' with Kota?" Akira asked softly.

"No," Hikaru replied just as softly, meeting his eyes and smiling bitterly.

He almost reached out. Almost. But his friend _was_ taken, and was not sending him any messages to hint that he desired such an action on Akira's part. The tension built between them, becoming almost unbearable. It was alive and dangerous.

"Nigiri already," Hikaru whispered, green eyes too bright as they looked at him. _Wounded_. It was another incarnation of the drowning look.

Akira bowed his head, sweeping up a handful of stones.

* * *

Hikaru grinned as he emerged into the living room. Akira was so close behind him that the other boy's body brushed his. He put it firmly out of his mind, focusing instead on proclaiming his victory to all who would listen. 

Isumi and Waya _definitely_ looked disheveled. Isumi had the grace to blush. "You're done. Who won?"

"_I_ did, by 6 moku! Ahahaha!" Hikaru raised his arms. "Feel my—ack!" A pillow flung with stunning accuracy by Waya destroyed his power speech.

"So Touya _lost_?" Waya cried disbelievingly.

Akira ghosted out from behind Hikaru, brushing him yet again. "Yes, it happens sometimes."

"Ha, sometimes more often than _not_ these days!" Hikaru shot back.

"Perhaps Touya is still unfocused from what happened earlier," Isumi offered.

"Who _wouldn't_ be?" Waya retorted. "I almost wore soda. Wet jeans suck. I think he's got it in for me."

"I'm very sorry, Waya, I didn't mean for any of that to happen," Akira said politely.

"Akira, don't bother with apologizing to Waya, he just wants to be annoying." Hikaru was tormenting Waya, but behind his façade, his only concern was that Akira was touching him _way_ too often, and to devastating effect.

"I should be getting home," Akira interjected.

"If you insist," Hikaru replied. No doubt the other boy felt out of place when everyone was feeling playful. He fished his keys out and tossed them into the air just to have the satisfaction of catching them.

"You're coming back, right?" Waya pressed, looking hopeful.

"Ehh, it _is_ getting late, so—"

"Oh, for the love of – 10 P.M. is _not_ late!"

"Waya, I actually—"

"He has plans tomorrow," Akira murmured.

Hikaru shrugged and nodded.

"All day?" Waya asked, looking suspicious.

"Yes, he's mine all day," he affirmed.

Waya gave them an arch look. "Oh, is that so? Well, then, Hikaru! You should tell Kota he has competition!"

"Waya!" Hikaru exclaimed, sounding stung. "Akira is _not_ in competition with Kota."

He well and truly wanted to go home after hearing _that_. Why _wasn't_ he competition? He dearly wanted to ask Hikaru that question. But he'd have to settle for crawling into bed and lying awake in misery. Alone. Because he wasn't any kind of competition for Hikaru's affections.

"Let's go, Akira," Hikaru said in a low voice, reaching out as if to guide him – but not touching him.

He nodded mutely, letting himself out with Hikaru right behind him.

"This was one of those not-fun days again, wasn't it?" his rival muttered as they were walking down the stairs.

"Afraid so. Are you certain that it's not inconvenient for you to take me home? I can stay over with you if you'd rather not have to drop me off tonight." He held his breath, hoping for some response besides the inevitable.

"No, that's fine, I'm wide awake. What time am I supposed to get you tomorrow?"

That was, unfortunately, the response he'd been expecting.

He got into the car, the other boy following suit, and Hikaru left the windows up for once. "I suppose it depends on what we're doing," he replied levelly. Below the surface, he was ecstatic. _A day alone with Hikaru._ He couldn't recall the last time he'd had the chance.

"Hey, did you see the moon?" the other boy asked. "It's one of those cool, narrow crescents that looks like it's just about to disappear."

_No, I did not. I was too preoccupied with looking at you, watching the way you walk and the way you turn your head as you're talking over your shoulder to me._ "It's beautiful," he agreed.

Hikaru cleared his throat, seeming suddenly self-conscious, and shifted the car into reverse, backing out.

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you and make you leave Isumi's before you're ready," he said into the awkward silence.

The bleach-banged boy glanced at him, surprised. "Don't be silly. I would do…I mean, I don't mind doing things for you sometimes." Hikaru looked away sharply, focusing on navigating the parking lot with more concentration than could possibly be required.

Akira continued to watch his rival, trying to remember Hikaru as he was at this moment. Perhaps his mind would conveniently do so automatically as it had so many times before. A thought struck him then, and he blurted it out. "Are you ever going to stop bleaching your bangs?"

Hikaru gave a little laugh, and it almost sounded self-deprecating. "I suppose I really should, huh? I get comments on it all the time, and most of them aren't positive."

"No!" he replied intensely, half-reaching out towards the other boy. "You should never change." He couldn't stomach the thought of Hikaru changing, becoming practical and civilized just like everyone else.

He dropped his hand, coming back to his senses. It was better not to touch his friend.

The other pro spared him an amused glance. "I had no idea that you were partial to the bleached bangs, or to the thought of me always being stupid and impulsive. What has come over you, Akira? I would think you would greet any changes in me with open arms, excited that I was at last becoming an adult."

"No," he breathed, looking out the window at the shadowy buildings they passed. He couldn't bear to meet those eyes anymore. At least Hikaru was finally being _genuine_ with him, now that they were away from the others. He couldn't help but think that his rival was concealing something from him. Perhaps from everyone.

_Don't leave me behind, Hikaru! I waited for _**you**_ – now please, wait for _**me**_. And…what would I do without you? _

_What good would Touya Akira be without Shindou Hikaru? _

* * *

Hikaru leaned against the side of his car for a second as he waited for Akira to get out. The other pro was getting stranger and stranger, and it only magnified the persistent weirdness that had dogged all of their interactions since the strip club incident. 

Akira got out slowly, as if lost in his own little world, and shut the door with barely enough force for it to latch.

He made a face and went around the car to walk with his friend. "What's up with you lately, Akira? You're in outer space. Your focus has gone to hell."

Those aqua eyes glanced off of his before darting away. "I know."

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, concerned, eyes searching Akira's.

Akira smiled wryly, as if privately amused by something about what he had said. "Don't concern yourself about me."

Hikaru rolled his eyes. "Oh, as if _that's_ possible! I am _always_ concerned about you. Sadly enough, almost every thought I've had since I was 12 has been concerning you in some way. You were all I thought about – you, and food." He laughed lightly. "No wonder Akari stopped wanting to hang out! She had designs on me, and she gave up after I only ever talked about Touya Akira this, and Touya Akira that."

Akira kept walking, but there was a brief hitch in his stride. "Oh? I had no idea."

They were in the lobby of Akira's apartment building now, having entered with the key. He followed the other boy towards the elevator, their voices echoing strangely off of the tile and blank walls.

"Yeah, I was completely obsessed with you. I guess it's not surprising that I developed some weird attachment to you."

"Was?" Akira murmured, putting his code into the elevator keypad.

He studied his rival's beautiful profile, then turned to enter the elevator as the doors slid open. "Well, yeah. I mean, I'm trying to re-focus my energies on someone that cares."

"Like Kota," Akira muttered under his breath as he crossed his arms, slanted eyes looking off to the side.

"Yeah."

"You shouldn't become so inebriated, Hikaru," Akira chastised him, aqua eyes narrowing. "Employ some restraint."

"Oh, but I'm a regular little bundle of restraint," Hikaru shot back, feeling himself sneer the slightest bit. He was shocked at the strength of his irritation.

Akira looked down at the floor, sighing, raising a hand to massage his left temple. "I didn't mean it that way," the other boy said quietly, sounding defeated. "I only…only worry about you."

Hikaru was so surprised that he almost missed the soft _ding_ of the elevator reaching its destination. Akira breezed past him, arm brushing his. He followed, still in wonder that his friend had actually clarified one of those obnoxious criticisms as being something emotional.

They entered the recessed doorway of Akira's apartment and the other boy turned to look at him. It was almost akin to having their own private little alcove, and he liked the feeling, the privacy.

Completely out of touch with what he _should_ be doing, which would be walking away at this moment, he stood there, returning Akira's gaze. Belatedly, he realized that he had completely invaded his friend's personal space. They were too close. _Oops._

Akira, seemingly unruffled by any of it, reached into his shirt pocket with one hand as the other reached towards Hikaru. He responded instinctively, catching the wrist of the hand that had hooked into the neck of his tank top.

"You don't want to leave these," Akira replied to his look, hooking one arm of the forgotten sunglasses over the front of Hikaru's tank top, fingers brushing over bare skin and a collarbone.

Hikaru gasped in a breath, shuddering, fierce desire crushing every thought in his head like some nightmare tsunami. Overwhelming emotion rushed through him, immersing him, making it difficult to even hear, and he felt a twinge of despair. It swept away everything but Akira's presence right before him, touching him. It was like drowning.

Akira was _touching_ him.

He caught the other slender wrist and pushed his rival back against the door, leaning in aggressively to capture the other boy's parted lips.

* * *

To say that he was surprised would have been a severe understatement. He had been touching Hikaru all night without any response, and now he found himself pinned against his own door bodily by his rival, having the life kissed out of him. 

Hikaru had _never_ given him a kiss quite like this one. This was without restraint, without boundaries and without consideration. It was raw and emotional, utterly overpowering. He couldn't even consider resisting, and in fact, he welcomed the other boy into his mouth, starving for contact and intimacy from the green-eyed boy.

He molded his body more closely to Hikaru's, and his rival responded by crushing him against the door even more emphatically.

Akira gasped into his friend's mouth, opening his eyes for a moment. The other pro's eyes were closed, expression passionate and yearning. He closed his eyes again, satisfied and relieved.

_You _**do**_ still want me. _

Hikaru's grip tightened on his wrists for a moment, but then disappeared completely. The kiss was ended with a brokenly whispered, "Sorry," and then the warmth of the bleach-banged boy's body was removed as well. Akira opened his eyes, startled, only to see that Hikaru was gone. He ran out into the hallway, intent on preventing his rival from leaving.

Hikaru's back was receding quickly, and the other boy had almost made it to the elevators. "Hikaru!! Wait!" To his consternation, his friend moved even _faster_.

Akira bolted down the hallway, determined to find out just what on earth was going on. Hikaru was stepping into the elevator just as he arrived, and he grabbed the other boy's wrist, pulling his friend around to face him. They both ended up in the elevator. "Where are you…"

Hikaru's green eyes were stormy and tormented - and swimming with tears. "It was an accident, I'm sorry," the other boy muttered, frantically trying to get past him to punch the button for the first floor.

He pressed close, scenting a capitulation. "Was it really?" he whispered, lips against Hikaru's jaw. He inhaled the scent of the other boy, wanting to be surrounded by it, to drown in it.

"_Dammit_, Akira!" Hikaru exploded, pushing him away forcefully. His rival shoved past him and made it through the elevator doors, running for the stairs as if pursued by demons from hell.

What had he done wrong? Hikaru still wanted him. That much was beautifully, delightfully obvious. But why had his rival been crying?

He suddenly remembered. Hikaru had a _boyfriend_. Akira groaned, stepping out of the elevator. How could he have forgotten that so completely? All he'd been able to think about was that Hikaru was close to him, and had even given Akira the _kiss_ look as he'd been returning the sunglasses. The other boy had finally given him an opening.

Could Hikaru have a boyfriend and still want him? He decided that such was the case. After all, the boyfriend was just an interloper. He and Hikaru had been together for _much_ longer.

This was a _kakari _situation, and Kota was the _shimari_ that hindered his advance upon Hikaru. But he would determine the successful strategy and execute it with precision, as always.

Akira smiled slightly as he let himself into his apartment, determined that he would change Hikaru's mind tomorrow. He'd worry about any physical complications after he'd won the other boy over.

* * *

_

* * *

_

_**A/N #2: Torazu San Moku: A very rare position in the corner, where either side may capture first, but would lose points to do so.**_


	25. Burned and Determined

**A/N: Yo! I thought _this_ chapter was the one that deserved the WARNING, but it seems that the uber-smut is split between this chapter and the next (which I was working on right after completing this one)! So then, half your smut now, half later. ;) Have fun!**

* * *

Hikaru frowned at Akira over his sunglasses, hoping he hadn't heard what he thought he'd heard. "What?"

He'd already had to wait around in the parking lot for Akira for fifteen minutes, as the other boy hadn't been ready when he'd arrived around 11 A.M. His rival had promised to get him a key to both the lobby and the apartment and had already made him memorize the elevator code. Not that he _wanted_ to have access to his friend's place at all hours…

_Really..._

At least the place was fully furnished, now. Akira's bedroom and living room sets had been delivered the other day. He hadn't had the opportunity to see them yet, but the aqua-eyed boy said that he was planning to have a house warming party in a couple of days.

As long as it wasn't next weekend. He had several tutoring sessions lined up on Saturday and Sunday. Incidentally, so did Akira. The only difference was that the people Hikaru would be tutoring ranged from amateur to intermediate, whereas all of the other pro's students were advanced, and fancied themselves capable enough to win a title or two. After having the benefit of Akira's schooling, of course.

"I said that I want to have lunch at that restaurant on the corner. You know, the one down the street from me."

"Ah, yes, but does it have to be _that_ one?" He had to steer Akira away from that restaurant. Kota was a waiter there, and was working this shift. The last thing he wanted to do was to get the two of them in a room together. He didn't want to know what Kota would think.

Akira put his window up, turning to give Hikaru his full attention. "Yes! I want to go there. What's wrong with that restaurant?" Aqua eyes challenged him. As usual.

"Nothing. That's just fine. I'll take us there first, and then we'll go to the beach." He rolled his eyes. "Whose idea was the beach, anyway? It's sort of hot out…"

"Well, I want to go to the beach during the day, for once. I was a small child the last time I went, and I want to go there with you now." Akira crossed his arms and went back to looking out the window.

Hikaru was oddly touched. The fact that his rival wanted to do something that personal with him made him…happy. He always felt happy when he was with Akira, even when he was in pain. Even when they were bickering.

He caught movement from Akira's side of the car and glanced over, catching sight of the camera in the other boy's hands. "Akira! You brought that damned thing?"

That earned him a guilty look. "I thought that I ought to bring it in order to take a few pictures of the beach." The guilty look shifted into a haughty expression. "Besides, what makes you so certain that I'd use it to take more pictures of you? I'm sure that's what you were driving at. I'm also certain that two pictures of you would be enough for anyone."

Ouch! "There you go again," he snapped. "Just what is that supposed to mean, anyway?" Damn it all. Between that torturous incident last night and Akira's attitude problem today, he was now determined to make lunch _hell_. He would be sure to catch Kota's attention _now_.

"You're always thinking that I'm looking at you," Akira retorted, expression sullen and more than little guarded.

"I think I'm within my rights to be suspicious if you keep pointing that camera at me."

"And just why _would_ I want more pictures of you?"

"_You_ tell _me_, Akira," he replied in a low voice, giving his friend a meaningful look.

Instead of continuing the argument or bringing up last night in order to shoot it down, the other pro only turned away again, fingers tangling in the wrist cord of the camera. Was that a blush?

Hikaru arched his brows, intrigued with the unusual response. He was so distracted that he almost passed the restaurant, and had to brake harder than usual to make the turn.

Akira was thrown forward a little, and Hikaru noticed with annoyance that his rival was not wearing a seatbelt. "You really should wear your seatbelt, Akira."

The aqua-eyed boy shrugged, turning his head to give Hikaru a penetrating look. "I don't see you wearing _yours_, Hikaru. In fact, you haven't worn it the last several times at all."

"And so that matters why…?" he prompted, arching his brows again.

Akira's expression shifted into stubborn determination. "I don't see why I should wear mine if you won't be wearing yours," the other pro muttered, turning to get out of the car.

He reached out to catch one of those slender wrists. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you talking about? You're Touya Akira - the world cannot live without you."

Akira glared at him. "It can't live without you, either, you idiot, so you're wearing your seatbelt from now on."

Hikaru released the other boy, startled. "O…kay…"

"That's more like it. Now, let's go. I'm starving."

He laughed and got out of the car. "I don't know how you're so slender. All you ever do is eat!"

"I have to fuel my mind," Akira replied serenely. "What's _your_ excuse?"

"Hey!" He ran over to the other boy's side of the car, fully prepared to torment him, but found himself favored with a slip of a warm smile, reflected in the aqua eyes that met his. Seeing something like that directed at him, from _Akira_, froze him in his tracks, hands still raised to do mischief.

"What are you planning to do with those?" Akira asked him, tone almost teasing. "You'd better not dishevel my person. Contain yourself, Hikaru!" The other pro reached out and took Hikaru's hands in his, slowly lowering them while gazing into his eyes the entire time.

He felt warmth spilling through him from the contact, from the way Akira's fingers folded and interlocked with his. It made him think of other things. Just as he was about to pull away, the other boy slowly let him go, aqua eyes somber and intense as they remained locked with his.

Unable to speak, or even to move, he had to wait until Akira turned away and started up the sidewalk to the front door of the restaurant before the spell was broken. "Hikaru!"

"I'm coming," he called, trying to quiet the noise and racing of his heart as he moved to follow. Whenever Akira got that close to him, he had trouble remembering anything else.

Just like last night. _Damn_ Akira. He felt so guilty. And if his rival didn't stop touching him, he'd soon be doing something _else_ that they'd both regret. He had to change the focus of this desire to Kota somehow.

Resolved, his conscience felt lighter. He would lose himself in Kota tonight, driving all thoughts of Akira out of his mind…and hopefully, his heart.

* * *

Akira had just finished scooting his chair in at the table when he saw Hikaru nod at someone across the room. He glanced that way, searching for the person that the other boy had acknowledged, but saw only waiters and a few customers.

He turned back to ask, but Hikaru had already picked up a menu and seemed deeply interested in the entrees. Faintly annoyed, he focused his attention on studying his friend's puckish face. Hikaru truly _was_ too adorable to be considered a normal boy.

Come to think of it, he hoped that the girlfriend had been disposed of. He hadn't thought to ask after the horrible revelation of the boyfriend the other day. He could only handle so much.

Akira was startled to note that a waiter was approaching them already. They hadn't even had a moment to glance over their menus or decide on beverages. He was even more shocked when said waiter violated Hikaru's personal space, leaning down close to the other boy's ear and murmuring something.

He opened his mouth to protest, prepared to defend his rival, but felt his mouth drop open when the other pro blushed and closed his eyes, turning his head slightly away.

"Kota, _stop_ that!" Hikaru replied in a slightly coy tone layered with faux shyness. Those green eyes opened and flicked up to meet Akira's, the flirtatiousness still in their depths.

Akira caught his breath, feeling his heart rate increase. _Hikaru…you are…_**so**_ beautiful. Why are you reacting to _**him** _like that!_

'Kota'. This was the boyfriend that his rival had mentioned. His momentary enchantment was suddenly consumed by jealousy and anger that someone else was touching Hikaru – someone else that wasn't _him_. He was burned by the fact that this Kota had the 'right' to touch _his_ Hikaru – and that _he_ didn't.

He was disturbed to note that Kota bore a passing resemblance to him. Had Hikaru noticed that? Did it mean something, or was it coincidental?

Kota glanced his way just then, dark eyes hooded and amused, full of sensual promises that were meant for Hikaru alone. The man straightened, one hand brushing the green-eyed boy's shoulder, and his eyes cleared.

"Shindou, who's this?" Kota flashed a brilliant smile at him, yet it had a definite edge to it.

"This is my best friend, Touya Akira," Hikaru replied with a smile, slightly breathless. "He plays Go professionally, too."

"Pleased to meet you," Kota said, still smiling faintly. "I'm Fujie Kota, but just Kota is fine." Those dark eyes were assessing him, analyzing him.

"A pleasure, Kota. Please address me as Touya." He inclined his head slightly, determined not to give an inch to his enemy. _You're in my way, _**Kota.**

Kota's smile faltered, and the man forced a laugh. "Well, what's this? Did you pick that up from Touya?" he joked, glancing down at Hikaru.

Hikaru shrugged slightly, looking a little embarrassed. "Akira is just formal."

"And Hikaru allows people _too_ much familiarity," Akira returned levelly, staring at his friend meaningfully.

Kota's smile faded even more. "Well, I'll take your drink order, now. I'll be your server."

"But this isn't even your section," Hikaru replied, smiling up at Kota. By his manner, it was obvious that he wanted his boyfriend to wait on them, despite his comment.

"I wouldn't desert you," Kota murmured back, dark eyes softening.

Akira cleared his throat. "I'll have water, please."

Kota shot him a slightly annoyed look, nodding, then turned to Hikaru. "Right. Shindou?"

"Coke is fine. Thank you, Kota." Hikaru gave his boyfriend another of those sickly sweet smiles, and Kota went away.

Thank god. He was very pleased to note that Kota was not on a first name basis with his very friendly rival. It reassured him greatly. Hikaru was the type to ask everyone to call him by his given name, whether he'd known them for two weeks or fifteen minutes.

"'Shindou', hm?" Akira asked quietly, smiling slightly.

Hikaru glared at him defensively. "I don't want to move too quickly."

Akira responded with a cool look. "Is that so? It looks like you're already quite _familiar_ with him. Kisses, was it? Are you sure that's all?"

The bleach-banged boy leaned forward, eyes narrowing a little. "What do you care, Akira? What's wrong with being familiar with Kota? What does it matter if I kiss him or have sex with him?"

He was unable to prevent himself from involuntarily flinching at that. _God, _**no!**"I'm just concerned. I know you tend to…to jump into things. It's not decorous to move that quickly. You just met him, what, three days ago?"

"I _like_ him," Hikaru replied through gritted teeth, green eyes boring into Akira's with a singular determination.

He felt his hands clench where they rested in his lap under the table. There was nothing he could say to that. But he couldn't bear the thought of someone tainting Hikaru, someone else _touching_ his friend, much less having _sex_ with him. The very thought made his blood run cold.

Akira had waited _years_ for Hikaru to catch up to him, delaying his own progress, and now Hikaru couldn't even wait a month for him to understand his feelings and act on them? He had only just realized that such a thing was possible for him when Hikaru had kissed him at the strip club. From that point, it had been discovering his own feelings and figuring out what to do with them. He had no practice with this. There were no rules. This wasn't understandable and precise like Go. Relationships were utterly alien to him.

He couldn't stop thinking about what he had just seen between Hikaru and Kota. It made him feel ill to see them look at each other like that, to watch them _flirt_ with each other. He had no doubt that more would be happening between the two of them soon.

_Please, Hikaru, don't tell me when it does. I couldn't cope with that. With someone else knowing your secrets, and what you feel like. What you _**sound**_ like…_

Akira closed his eyes, trying to will away his nausea. Why was it like this?

"Akira?" Hikaru's voice came to him distantly, sounding concerned.

"What?" he replied sharply, refusing to open his eyes.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll be better when we get to the beach."

"But I thought you were hungry," Hikaru said gently.

He opened his eyes then, glaring at his friend. "I was _earlier_, but now I'm not so certain."

Hikaru scowled at him. "Look, I'm sorry. I know you hate to see people being affectionate to each other, especially if they're both men, so…I'm sorry. But I'm not going to stop caring about people just because it puts you off."

"I'd never expect—" he stopped mid-snap, aware that he'd be making a gross misstep if he continued. _I'd never expect that much from you._

"What?" Hikaru asked warily, green eyes darkening ominously.

"I'd never expect you to. That's all I was going to say."

The other boy did not look as if he believed it, but had no choice but to accept what Akira had said. He was relieved that he'd finally learned enough about human interactions to realize when he was about to make an obvious mistake.

Besides, it wasn't that he _truly_ thought that of Hikaru. It was that he was…hurt. Betrayed. Angry and jealous. What were feelings good for, anyway? They only complicated matters. That, and they made it difficult for him to eat. They affected his entire being, and he didn't like it.

He didn't like the unknown variables, the threat to his equilibrium, the inability to control and dictate every outcome. That had certainly been part of his reluctance to accept Hikaru's earlier advances. He didn't know anything about relationships, and the thought of intimacy, either emotional or physical, terrified him. Not to mention the fact that he would have to show an unguarded and vulnerable self to Hikaru, and though his rival had seen more of him than anyone else ever would, that was still rather different from being completely exposed.

Akira had no illusions about how he would feel if he allowed the other pro to get that close to him. He would lose himself, lose himself in Hikaru's arms, scent and affection. Once having that warmth incorporated into his being, he would be shattered if it withdrew, if the green-eyed boy left him. And then…things would change between them. He might not have any personal experience of his own, but he wasn't completely oblivious to the examples provided at every turn, both in media and in real life.

But Hikaru was turning away as it was, about to give Kota that warmth, that joy, that radiance that was purely 'Hikaru'. Wasn't that worse? Now that he'd come to that realization, his hands were tied by the unavoidable fact that the situation had changed. He no longer had the ability to draw the other boy in, to accept anything.

But he had to try, even though it was slowly crushing him to see Hikaru leaving him.

"…ra? Akira! You're far away again." A chastising tone.

He blinked slowly, focusing on Hikaru's annoyed face. "I apologize, I was thinking."

"You're always thinking. Was it kifu again? If so, that's pitiful. You have to think about something else."

Akira sighed. "No, it wasn't kifu, although we should both be playing much more Go than we have been lately."

"What was it then?" Wide green eyes regarded him with curiosity.

"Kota resembles me," he remarked, surprising himself. He had _not_ meant to say that.

Hikaru started frowning again. "I hadn't noticed."

An awkward silence stretched between them, and was only broken when Kota arrived with the drinks. "Here we are," the dark-eyed man murmured, setting the glasses down between the two of them.

"It's pretty quiet in here today," Hikaru said, reaching out to lightly touch one of Kota's extended arms.

"I'm sure everyone your age is studying fiendishly to prepare for the new school year, but you Go pros don't need to worry about that!" Kota straightened, gently tapping the top of Hikaru's head with one of the menus.

"Ah, but I can spend a lot more time with you because of it," Hikaru replied with a sly grin, looking up at Kota from beneath lowered lashes.

Akira was in danger of being sick at any moment. "You _should_ be practicing more, Hikaru!" he exclaimed sharply, exasperated and irritated. And angry-jealous-disgusted-betrayed. No wonder he felt nauseous.

Kota slanted a dark look at him again, seemingly taking offense at his familiar use of Hikaru's given name as well as the interruption.

Akira held the man's gaze, unperturbed. "Can you please take our order? I'm ready. You're ready, aren't you, 'Karu?"

Hikaru gave him a surprised look at the diminutive. "Uh…yeah, I'm ready."

Kota took their orders, then glanced back at Akira.

He shot an arctic look at Kota, a veiled challenge in his eyes. _You can't compete._

Kota clenched his jaw, glancing around the quiet restaurant as if to assure himself that they were unobserved, then met Akira's eyes again. _Oh yeah?_ Without warning, the man reached down, tipping Hikaru's chin up and to the side, then leaned down to give the green-eyed boy a rather passionate kiss.

Akira's eyes widened and he stared, stunned. He couldn't believe that Kota had _dared_ such a thing.

Hikaru's eyes went wide, also, but fluttered closed as Kota kissed him. His rival's hand reached up as if to make some motion and Kota enfolded it in his.

'_He's into it!' _Akira thought, outraged. He was just about to leap over the table at Kota when the horrible, scandalous kiss was broken.

Kota smiled down at Hikaru, then turned and walked away.

His rival sat there looking stunned, face flushed, fingers pressed to his lips. Those green eyes were half-closed and a little unfocused, seeming to stare through the table.

"Does he do that _often_?" Akira growled, chest aching. Some horrible feeling was crawling up his throat, and he knew that something unpleasant was imminent, although he didn't know whether it would be a sob or what he'd had for breakfast.

There was an absolute _maelstrom _of emotion in him now.

Hikaru looked up, still dazed. "What? Oh…no, usually he's quite reserved."

"_Really_." The doubt in his tone was unmistakable.

"Please, Akira, don't be like this," his rival said softly, giving him a pleading look.

Akira let his chin fall, eyes lowering. "I'll be right back. I need to use the restroom."

He ignored Hikaru's query as to what was troubling him and headed directly for the restroom. He desperately needed to get there, and yesterday. As he rounded a corner, he saw that Kota was just leaving the kitchen. The man saw him and gave him an unreadable look.

Akira rushed into the men's restroom, slamming into one of the stalls, and found that it was both his breakfast and a few tears that he felt the need to be rid of.

After he was done being ill, he suffered through a few muffled sobs before steeling himself and washing up at the sink.

_I truly, deeply did not wish to see that. I didn't need to see it._

But he couldn't erase the images.

* * *

Hikaru was worried about Akira. Ever since his friend had come back from the restroom, he had been pale and silent. Even after they'd arrived at the beach, nothing had changed. Now they were sitting on the blanket together, watching the breakers, and they were still silent.

He couldn't take it anymore. "Could you hand me the lotion, Akira? I don't want to burn."

His rival slowly picked up the bottle and began to pass it, then paused, looking at it as if he'd never seen it before. "I'll put it on. Lie down on your stomach."

"It's okay, Akira, I can do—"

"Lie down!" Akira demanded, aqua eyes snapping at him.

"Okay! Geez…calm down." He obeyed, wondering what the other boy's issue was.

Hikaru waited patiently, just enjoying the sun on his back and the warm breeze ruffling his hair. Suddenly, he felt Akira's weight settle across his backside, and he had to bite back a gasp. "What are you—"

"I'm putting on the lotion. Do you want it or not?"

Said in that acidic tone of voice, it was absolutely a rhetorical question. He remained silent, cringing a little at the feel of Akira's lotion-slick hands suddenly slipping up his spine. _What did I ever do to deserve this? I swear he's trying to torture me to death._

He became increasingly convinced of that as the so-called lotion application continued for several minutes. It seemed like an eternity that he bore with it, trying to ignore the sensuousness of those strong, slender hands sliding over his skin, his shoulder blades, down his sides…

Yes, it _did_ feel as though Akira was trying to kill him with unrelieved sexual tension. His body was reacting to this quite strongly, and nothing he thought about seemed to cut his building arousal. Not even disgusting thoughts of Amari threatened the desire that was spreading throughout his body, pooling like warm oil in his stomach, his limbs and between his legs.

Hikaru swallowed a moan as Akira shifted, accidentally grinding into him and pushing him harder into the ground.

"Turn over," Akira commanded, tone brisk and oddly husky.

His eyes widened as he realized that he could feel the other boy's arousal pressing against his backside. "No, that's enough, really—"

"Turn over!" his friend barked.

He gave a start, then reluctantly complied as the other pro backed off just enough to allow him to do so. As soon as he'd completed the movement, Akira was right back on him. He wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't, because the aqua eyes staring into his had once again achieved that burning, electric quality that they'd had the last time he and Akira had been this close.

"Thank you," Akira breathed, working more lotion over his hands.

Hikaru closed his eyes, unable to bear looking into his rival's face when they were this close. He was clinging desperately to the last shreds of his control. _Public place, public place, **public place**_… Even though there weren't that many people around on a weekday during the day, it still made him anxious to be in this risqué position in the open – or anywhere else, for that matter.

He tensed as the other boy's hands came down on his chest, trying to concentrate on regulating his breathing. He hadn't wanted Akira to feel the state he was in, but his friend sat astride his hips without apparent concern, and it was almost more than he could take. In this position, if they only _moved_…

Hikaru bit his lip hard, preparing to break the skin to bring him back to himself, but a gentle finger pressed against his lips, the tip entering his mouth slightly. "Don't do that, Hikaru. What's wrong?" Akira's voice was low and soothing, sensual in the extreme.

What horrible crime had he committed in a past life?! "N-nothing…nothing is wrong," he forced out, voice quavering.

Akira leaned forward, causing friction between them, and Hikaru choked. "Are you certain? You seem pained." The other boy's breath fanned over his lips, teasing him.

"Akira…Akira, please. Please finish applying the lotion." It was all he could manage.

"I'll be glad to," Akira whispered, pressing closer.

He made as if to bite his lip again, and the finger that had retreated to the side of his face pressed between his lips again, nudging between his teeth.

"Stop," he whispered, trying to turn his head away. In trying to speak, his tongue lightly touched Akira's finger.

The other fingers twitched in response and Akira withdrew his hand, employing it in spreading lotion over Hikaru's stomach and nearly under the line of his shorts. "The lotion tastes unpleasant, doesn't it? I apologize, Hikaru, I didn't think."

'_It's not the fucking lotion!' _he mentally screamed at his friend. He had plans to immediately jump into the water as soon as Akira let him up. This was _ridiculous._ If Kota saw this, he'd be utterly enraged, and probably very hurt. And with good reason! What was this nonsense that the other pro had talked him into!

What was Akira's finger doing in his mouth in the first place?! Friends didn't _do_ things like that, nor did they straddle their comrades in order to apply lotion, of all things.

Hikaru shuddered as those frightening hands skated up his chest, over his nipples and massaged the sides of his neck. He was convinced that Akira would mock him for his reactions any moment now, despite the fact that the other boy was reacting in the same way.

Despite it seeming that Akira desired him, it was primarily the other pro's denial and avoidance that had been the issue, so this didn't mean anything. It _couldn't_ mean anything.

Akira's hands left him for a moment, and just as he was about to open his eyes, there was a _click._ He knew without a doubt that he'd just had a very embarrassing picture taken of him.

"_Akira…_" he groaned, trying to express his annoyance. It sounded much worse than he had thought it would. It sounded as if they were in the middle of something intimate, and he was begging for something. It was _horrible_.

He opened his eyes, looking up at Akira's face. The other boy's cheeks were flushed, lips parted, and he could see at a glance that his rival's focus on him was absolute. There was wanton hunger in those flashing eyes.

It had never been _this_ bad. "No…more pictures," he breathed, weakly pushing at Akira's chest, then at the camera, which the other pro held out of his reach. "You said you didn't need any more of me."

"I was wrong," Akira murmured, eyes locked on his lips.

"Ok, that's enough. I've got lotion on, I'm good to go. Let me up?" He gave the aqua-eyed boy a hopeful look.

After a long, silent moment, Akira slowly rocked into him one more time, eyes riveted on his mouth.

He couldn't help the faint moan that escaped him then. He wanted to cover his face in embarrassment, but knew it would only make things worse. Seemingly satisfied, Akira let him get up, gaze penetrating and knowing.

Hikaru turned towards the water, ready to run.

"Aren't you going to put lotion on me? With how pale I am, I'll burn instantly." Akira ran his hands lightly down his torso, giving Hikaru an expectant look.

He wanted to cry. "Yeah…I guess…you're right." He picked up the bottle of lotion, roundly cursing the other boy in his mind.

This was _hell_.


	26. Resignation

**A/N: Ooo, smutty chapter! Lock door and read alone in dark. :D Akira's dignity is a little compromised. :P**

* * *

Hikaru fumbled for his cell phone as he tore out of the parking lot of Akira's apartment complex, unable to stand it for another minute. He held it to his ear, not breathing as it rang through.

"Hello?" Kota's smooth coffee and cream voice answered. It was a bracing, soothing voice, a little deep, a little dark and very pleasant.

"Kota, you're home! I know you probably just got home, but…can I come over?" He hoped that he didn't sound as desperate as he felt at the moment.

"Shindou! Of course you can. I'll be waiting."

He smiled. "Thank you. I'll see you soon."

"Ok, till then."

Hikaru flipped his phone closed and tossed it into the recently vacated passenger seat, smile fading. It had _not_ been a good day. He would stop by his own house for a quick shower and change so that he could be at least slightly presentable.

He grimaced as he recalled the conversation he'd just had with Akira.

_"Why don't you come up, Hikaru?" Akira asked him, about to get out of the car. Those aqua eyes were still very intense and perilous to his sanity, drawing him in and rolling him under._

_The feelings from the beach were still _**very**_ much in force. "Uh, I can't, Akira. I'm going to see Kota, remember? I don't really have any more time to hang out with you." He tried to laugh._

_A peculiar expression flickered over Akira's features for a split second, and he saw a flash of anger and pain at the tail end of it before the other boy's face smoothed out again. It was a little frightening, to say the least._

"_I see," Akira replied flatly, eyes skimming over him briefly before returning to his face._

"_You'll have your house warming party soon, right? I'll see you then." Hikaru tried for convincing._

"_Indeed. I hope you'll spend more time with me then." Akira's eyes were compelling and powerful, seizing his will and his right to refuse and crushing them._

"_Y-yes…I promise I'll spend more time with you then," he heard himself stutter._

"_I enjoyed the time we spent together today…_**after **_the restaurant." His rival's gaze was still locked with his, pinning him._

"_Yes," he agreed, trying to put the beach out of his mind with a vengeance. _

_Putting lotion on Akira had been just as torturous as having the other boy put it on him. His friend hadn't made any secret of the fact that he enjoyed Hikaru's hands on his body. Despite the fact that he'd tried to keep it as innocent as possible, Akira had lain on the blanket with his eyes closed, blushing and biting his lip. He'd found himself wondering why the other pro was doing this to him _**now**_, of all times._

_Though things had proceeded normally enough after that, Akira had managed to find reasons to touch him, to be close to him, to give him burning looks._

_Aware that Akira was still watching him silently, he felt the urge to speak again. "No more pictures, Akira," Hikaru said firmly._

_Dark lashes swept down to veil aqua eyes, doing nothing to cut the intensity of their gaze. "I'll try not to," the other boy said, abruptly getting out of the car and shutting the door. _

_A moment later, Akira turned and leaned down, pressing a hand to the glass and looking in at Hikaru with strange, sad eyes. Pleading eyes. With that, his rival turned away and began walking towards the building._

_He watched for a moment, hypnotized by the slight sway of Akira's hips and the graceful way in which he moved. Even the way his hair fluttered in the slight breeze was perfect._

_Wrenching his attention away, he started the car._

Hikaru shuddered, glad to be pulling into his driveway. Akira was going to have to visit him in an asylum soon if he kept this up. He turned off the car and leapt out, not even bothering to lock it. It would only take him ten minutes to run in, take a shower, and get the hell out.

* * *

Akira leaned back against his apartment door as it closed behind him, bracing himself against it. His hands were shaking. Come to think of it, his entire body was shaking - shaking with need for Hikaru. It was absolutely blinding, overpowering all sense and logic. He had almost broken several times today.

What had he come to that he would lose himself so completely in a public place? He didn't think that anyone had walked by or seen them, but how would he have known, since he had completely submerged himself in Hikaru's beautiful green eyes and the way in which they captured and reflected the sunlight? They practically _glowed_ in the light.

But Hikaru's eyes hadn't been the only thing luring him in and seducing him. Everything about the other boy excited him to a fever pitch, drove him to get as close as he possibly could.

The more his rival avoided him and dodged his advances, the more determined he became. Could it possibly end well? He didn't want to consider it. He was quite certain that he had clearly shown Hikaru his feelings today. He had not tried to disguise his need, or pretend that he was unaware of the need in the body pinned beneath his. He had not looked away or turned from the passion that raged between them. So why did Hikaru still run away? Was he so attached to Kota?

Akira pushed away from his door, heading directly for the restroom. He was sandy, tired and painfully aroused. For Hikaru, he would have tolerated sand in many places.

He dragged off his beach clothing and tossed it into the hamper, not bothering to close the restroom door as he stepped into the shower. He turned it on, adjusting it until it was just slightly too hot to be comfortable, and leaned back against the tile, closing his eyes.

"Hikaru," Akira whispered to himself, wishing that the other boy was there with him. Wishing that what had happened at the beach had gone differently, or that it had ended differently.

If only Hikaru had taken Akira's fingers into his mouth and teased them with his tongue. If only they had been at the beach at night, when it was utterly dark and deserted. He could imagine then that the green-eyed boy might have cried out for him instead of simply giving him pleading, desperate looks and shifting helplessly beneath him.

Akira shivered as the Hikaru in his mind did just that, reaching out for him with hands that trailed down the sides of his waist, enflaming every bit of skin that they touched.

"_Hikaru,_" he whispered again, biting his lip as he had earlier when Hikaru's hands had been on him. Although the bleach-banged boy had refused to straddle him, he had been able to feel the tremor in those hands, and could hear the hitched breaths that his rival had attempted to disguise.

He had wanted so badly, _so badly_ for Hikaru to touch those parts of him that ached so savagely for the other boy.

Akira rested his hands lightly on his stomach, tentative and ashamed as he allowed them to flutter lower. He ended up this way much too often these days, and couldn't count how many times a picture or these sorts of thoughts had set him off recently.

"Why won't you _touch_ me?" he murmured brokenly, then bit back a soft cry as his hands arrived at their destination. He tried to stroke his body as he thought Hikaru might – passionate, yet gentle.

He was rapidly getting to the point where he would beg for his rival to do this to him. It shamed him terribly, but pride was something he had precious little of lately. Pride would not win Hikaru over. Yes, he was only a breath away from begging.

When had just wanting to touch Hikaru become so much more? When had it become something like _this_? It was like an addiction, or a disease. He was so hungry, so empty. He _needed_, needed to be touched and held. That need seemed to be rather attached to the green-eyed boy. If this was so strong, then what was love like? The desire and passion that had become such an overwhelming need were consuming him.

Akira swallowed another moan, but part of it escaped him anyway. He couldn't tolerate hearing himself make these wretched, wanton noises alone. He brought one hand up to bite down on, increasing the pace of the other as his legs began to tremble more violently.

He couldn't have opened his eyes if he wanted to, but the images of Hikaru played better in the darkness of his mind, anyway. He had wanted to rock his body against his friend until he lost all control, until they both reached the place that they craved…together.

He gasped, teeth releasing the hand he'd been biting down on. "Nnn…ah…Hika…_ru_…" The broken words spilled over without his conscious consent as he slipped down the wall, at last ending up sitting on the floor. He pressed back against the hard wall, legs bent and spread to accommodate a Hikaru that wasn't there, and the images in his mind shattered into brilliant fragments as his body at last gave him the response that he'd been seeking.

It was no surprise that his concentration was pale and broken now. It seemed that he could only think of Hikaru and what he wanted to do with the other boy, or the next time he'd get to see that precious face light up. The joy he felt every time he recognized that it was his rival that stood there waiting for him, turning to greet him…

"Is this what it feels like…to love you, Hikaru?" he mumbled, turning his face into the tile wall.

Akira was barely aware of his naked body that was currently sprawled partially across the floor of the shower. He didn't feel any particular urge to rearrange himself, or to be dignified at the moment.

He laughed a little. "I can't fight it any longer," he whispered with a faint, exhausted smile. "I…resign. You…you win."

* * *

"Yo," Hikaru said as Kota opened the door in response to his knock.

His boyfriend greeted him with a warm, wide smile. "Hey, you. Come on in. You look tired."

"I am," he replied, walking past Kota into the apartment. He leaned down to remove his shoes.

"How was your day with…Touya, was it?"

Hikaru glanced up at Kota - who was standing over him, gazing down with a slightly guarded expression. "Yes, Touya. It was fine. He wears me out, though."

"You didn't tell me you'd had a relationship with him," Kota said quietly, dark eyes serious and somewhat displeased.

"What?!" he squawked, straightening to stare at his boyfriend with his mouth hanging open. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm wrong? The way he looks at you, the familiarity, the undertones…it seemed obvious to me that there was something there like that." Kota's expression was just slightly challenging.

"Are you _serious_?" he asked incredulously, struggling to work his face out of _shocked_ and into some other, more interesting expression. Gaping like an idiot wasn't very useful.

"Absolutely serious. He was giving me some very evil looks. He's very possessive of you, and he was pretty determined to rub my face in it. Didn't you see it?"

Hikaru winced, feeling horribly guilty. He hadn't suspected. "No. He's always jerky. I guess I'm just used to it. He wasn't such an ass when we were…uh…12. Something happened to him. Maybe it was my becoming his rival and actually catching up to him, or maybe it was adolescence. I don't know, but he's just like this now."

"It's difficult to compete with, especially when I bear an uncanny resemblance to him and he is allowed to use your given name, whereas I, your boyfriend, am not allowed that familiarity. I know we've only been together for a few days…" Kota looked down, dark eyes heartbroken. "But I want to be with you…for a long time."

Hikaru wanted to hide his face in his hands. "I hadn't noticed the resemblance." That earned him a disbelieving look. "But…you can call me Hikaru, Kota." He couldn't very well continue keeping his boyfriend at a distance with calling him 'Shindou' when Akira was trying to molest him at every turn. It just wouldn't be very fair.

Kota smiled at him, and it had a touch of shyness. "Thank you." The dark-eyed man wandered over to the couch, sitting down. "I was just watching T.V. Is that fine, or did you want to do something else?"

He went over to sit beside Kota, sitting as close as possible without being on top of the man. "That's fine." Actually, he _did_ want to do something else. He very much wanted to forget about Akira, because his body seemed to have no issue with remaining uncomfortable for the duration.

They were silent for a while, and Hikaru pretended to watch T.V., but he couldn't stop feeling Akira's hands on his body. He couldn't stop _thinking_ about it.

He snuck a glance over at Kota. He had on a t-shirt and shorts, obviously dressed for hanging out on the couch for the evening.

Kota _was_ very handsome, and of course he hadn't missed the definite resemblance to Akira, despite his words to the contrary. Without thinking about what he was doing, he laid a hand on his boyfriend's knee and slowly slid it up higher, kneading the flesh of the dark-eyed man's bare thigh.

Kota's head turned very slowly and those dark eyes widened, staring at him in complete shock. "Hikaru!"

He turned towards Kota, crawling over on hands and knees to straddle the man and gaze into his eyes. "Am I bothering you?" he asked softly, brushing his lips over his boyfriend's.

"_No_, but…I did not expect this from you at _all_."

"I missed you," he replied simply, molding his body to Kota's.

Kota moaned softly, head falling back. "Hi_karu_—"

He pinned his boyfriend back against the cushions, kissing him deeply and suddenly, all of the restrained passion and need of the day boiling up to take control of him. He wanted the physicality, the realization of it, craved it so badly that he could taste it. Could taste Akira in his mouth…

Hikaru ground his body against Kota's sharply, gasping and closing his eyes. He felt the man's hands come up to grip his shoulders and ignored it, moving his body against the one pinned beneath him over and over as they kissed.

He broke the kiss involuntarily. "Aahh…" Hikaru clenched his jaw on the sound, knowing he couldn't stop this now that he'd started. There would be no way his raging desire would allow it. It was wildly out of control.

"_Hikaru!_" Kota cried, hands tightening on his shoulders sharply.

"Nn?" he responded vaguely, opening his eyes just enough to see his boyfriend's face. It seemed that the dark-eyed man was a little alarmed.

"Do you know what you're doing? You can't…you can't just _do_ this to me and expect me to stop…" Kota was gazing up at him with a hunger that was similar to the appetite that he'd seen in Akira's eyes.

"Who says I want you to stop?" he replied in a low, throaty voice.

Kota's eyes seemed to become even darker, and the man pushed him down onto his back on the couch, weight settling on top of him. "Are you certain that this is what you want, Hikaru? I won't go…all the way, but…"

"Yes," he whispered, leaning up to kiss Kota fiercely again. His boyfriend's dark hair fell forward to brush his face, silky just like Akira's.

_Just like Akira…_ He wanted Touya Akira with every fiber of his being. But Akira wasn't here, and wouldn't _ever_ be with him like this, he was sure.

He sighed into the mouth that sealed his, content that things were no longer under his control. He could let go with Kota, quench this terrible need in this person's arms safely.

He was quite aware that he was moving _way_ too quickly with Kota, but he didn't care, nor did he care what his friends and Akira thought of him. It was Akira's fault that he was desperate and falling apart like this in the first place. If Kota would take him away from it, if even for 20 minutes, then he invited his boyfriend to take him in any way he pleased. _Anything_ to lose Akira for a little while.

Hikaru knew that he should break this headlong fall into Kota, should wrest himself away and do things properly, but he didn't have the strength. It wasn't right to do this the way he was doing it.

'_I'm _**so **_weak,' _he thought with disgust.

Kota's hands had slipped into his clothing without his noticing somehow and those graceful, Akira-like hands were caressing his torso with slow, sensual strokes. Hadn't he just gone through this a few hours ago? But at least _this_ could end the way he wanted it to.

His body, already entirely too attuned to the touch of similar hands and craving for more of the same, responded with disturbing enthusiasm.

"Have you done this before?" Kota murmured against his throat between kisses.

"No…no. I dated a girl, and we did…something. But…" He could hardly find the breath to speak.

Kota chuckled against his skin. "That's hardly the same thing," the man murmured.

He arched up into his boyfriend's caress with a small, bitten back sound of pleasure as those fingers found their way under his shorts, skimming over him teasingly.

"No underwear or boxers?" Kota crooned softly. "Naughty." He sounded delighted. "Did you plan this?"

"I wanted you to touch me," Hikaru whispered, gazing up into the dark eyes that were so close to his. Aqua eyes that burned his skin with their demands…

_I wanted it._

"You make it difficult to stop short of a complete consummation when you talk to me like that," Kota replied hoarsely, dark eyes intent upon his face.

_I wanted you _**so**_much, Akira._

"You can do…whatever you want to me, Kota," Hikaru said quietly, meeting his boyfriend's eyes steadily. "_Please_ do whatever you want."

The dark-eyed man inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. "Hikaru, don't _say_ things like that to me. We barely know each other…and I don't want to rush this any more than we already are, even though I would love to do as you ask. Don't tempt me any further."

He felt a stab of disappointment. In a way, he wanted to experience everything. He was beginning to like Kota. But it would never be the same as what he felt for Akira, and it was really Akira that he wanted to do everything with, to feel this way with.

Kota's hand moved suddenly, bringing his attention sharply back to the situation, and he cried out, writhing under the man. "Do you like that?" his boyfriend asked softly, repeating the motion slowly and surely.

Hikaru gasped and closed his eyes, nodding.

Kota nipped his lower lip. "Hey, look at me when we're like this. I want to look into your eyes."

It felt extremely personal, but he complied. It made him feel absolutely exposed to have this person seeing his every reaction. Completely vulnerable. Thrilling, but disturbing.

"Touch me," Kota said gently, dark eyes pleading.

Hesitantly, he copied the man's movements, trying to focus while his boyfriend continued touching him. It was a bit difficult, but he managed it. It wrung a cry out of Kota when Hikaru's hand finally brushed his arousal.

"Yes," Kota whispered, urging him on with kisses and an increased pace.

Hikaru clenched his teeth against the strange feeling building within him. It bore a resemblance to how he felt when he touched himself, but it was definitely more powerful when brought about by someone else.

Without his permission, images of Akira flooded his mind: Akira's hands, Akira's eyes and mouth and body. _Fingers pressing into his mouth between his parted lips, body rocking into his. Oh, _**god!**

The feeling of his climax magnified violently, and his mouth opened in a silent scream, but all that came out of him was a loud, strangled cry. He writhed against the couch, dimly aware of Kota's low voice crying out in completion beside his ear. He tried to keep his focus, but his awareness hurtled forcefully through a white veil, smashing into those images and taking them down in pieces with his heart and his control.

_Akira, Akira, Akira, **Akira**!_

As he faded back into himself and out of the pleasure haze, he could no longer pretend that his fingers were wrapped around Akira, wet with the other boy's pleasure that he had brought about.

"That was extremely nice," Kota said quietly, kissing Hikaru's temple lingeringly.

"Mmm…" he responded, opening his eyes to smile at his boyfriend. Those dark eyes were quite intent upon him.

"I don't know how safe you're going to be around me if you keep instigating things like this, Hikaru. It's too wonderful to share these sorts of things with you. It feels too natural. I only want more."

"That's fine with me," he said with a smirk.

"I'll remember that!" Kota teased, slowly disentangling himself from Hikaru to rise from the couch. "I'll get us something to clean up with."

Hikaru smiled lazily and nodded, watching as Kota left the room. As soon as his boyfriend was gone, the smile fell and he buried his face in the cushions, smelling only Kota. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to convince himself that reality wasn't really that much colder than his fantasies. That this reality was the one that he wanted, the one that he could live with.

But he was only pretending, after all.

* * *

Waya lightly beat a tattoo against his bedroom wall with his knuckles as he waited for Hikaru to pick up. The little punk had to answer his phone at _some _point. It was already past 10 P.M., but he didn't care. He'd been trying on and off for hours, and it was Hikaru's own fault if he was woken up by the phone call he hadn't answered earlier!

The third ring was interrupted by a click. "Hullo?" Hikaru answered thickly, sounding half-asleep.

"You were _not_ asleep at this time, were you? Tell me you weren't. If you were, I'll have to come over there and kick your ass! Where have you been?"

"Uh…no, I wasn't asleep. I just got out of the shower. I was at Kota's for a while."

Was it his imagination, or did Hikaru sound faintly embarrassed? "Oh? And what were you doing at Kota's that you wouldn't answer your phone!" he teased obnoxiously, expecting a vehement denial.

"We…just…well, _stuff_, Waya. Geez, shouldn't you know these sorts of things since you're with Isumi?"

Oo. Defensive. He was shocked to hear Hikaru say such a thing, though. "_Stuff?_ Don't tell me that you actually _did_ things with Kota, Hikaru."

There was too long of a pause from Hikaru before he spoke. "Actually, _yes_, we did."

Waya felt his eyes go wide, and the phone started to slip through his fingers. He fumbled frantically, reclaiming it before it could fall. "What the _fuck_, Hikaru! You've only known this jerk for a few days!! It hasn't even been a _week_! I know you don't think things through, but this is out there even for _you_, man! And what about Touya?"

Hikaru laughed softly. "I just want to feel _normal_ again, Waya. If being with Kota is the way to do that, which I think it is, then I'll throw myself into it. I can't think about Akira anymore. He's the thing that's driving me crazy. Can't you see that? I'll never be happy if I have to think of him, wish for him, hope for his touch. Isn't that a little pathetic? I don't know what's going on with Akira, and I've stopped trying to figure it out. It doesn't involve real feelings for me as far as I can tell, so I'm staying clear, no matter _what_ he does."

Waya felt his brow furrowing. "Hikaru, I don't know if that's the way to handle this. Aren't you going to regret letting Kota have his way with you?"

"It doesn't matter. I already regret a little what we did earlier, but mostly what I regret about it is that it wasn't Akira. Do you _really_ want to hear all of this?" Hikaru's tone was brittle and a little bitter.

Very unlike normal Hikaru, in Waya's informed opinion. "Yeah, sure. We're friends, right? I might not be all introspective and shit like Isumi, but I want to try to help you anyway."

"Why are you two still using family names? Why don't you switch to a first name basis, since you _are_ intimate now?"

Waya was startled by the seeming randomness of the question. "I don't think we've ever really thought about it. Just seems kind of weird, since we've been calling each other those names for years."

"Hm," Hikaru replied, sounding dissatisfied.

"But that's beside the point. What did you mean when you said something about Akira doing things? What is he doing?"

Hikaru sighed explosively in frustration. "Dammit, Waya, what _isn't_ he doing? I think he really enjoys jerking my chain. I can't understand why he's doing it. I never thought that he was that kind of person. Quiet and serious, yes, but _sadistic_ and _cruel_? Not really."

Waya wandered over to his bed and sat down, vague thoughts of he and Isumi cluttering his mind. "Are you sure he's trying to be that way? I know he's an ass, but I don't see him as wanting to hurt you like that. The way he's been acting lately makes me wonder."

"What do you mean?" Hikaru asked sharply.

"Well, you know, spacing out. Knocking over his drink and all. That's not Touya Akira as _we_ know him. I'll bet that's the first time that anyone has seen _him_ do something clumsy and embarrassing!"

"Do you think that means something?" Hikaru asked hesitantly. Hopefully.

"I don't know for sure, of course," Waya warned, not wanting to encourage his friend in something hurtful. "But maybe you should be a little more open-minded."

"I have a boyfriend," Hikaru replied flatly.

"You sound like that's some permanent state. What if Touya _does_ care about you?"

"And what if he _doesn't_?" the other boy retorted in a hard voice. "Besides, him wanting to experiment with me is hardly very moving."

Waya rolled his eyes. "_What_ is he doing, Hikaru?"

"He keeps asking me to spend the night. And he keeps touching me. We went to the beach today, and he was _so_ far away from his usual self – you'd have to see it to believe it. But right there on the beach, he forced me to let him put lotion on me!"

Waya smirked. "What's so bad about that? He just sounds a little clingy for Touya."

"No, Waya, _no_. You _totally_ don't understand. He straddled me. He put his fingers in my mouth! H-he…rocked _into_ me! On the _beach_. And then he took a fucking picture!"

Waya couldn't stop himself – he started laughing. "Oh…my fucking god!" he choked out between fits of laughter.

"Waya! _Waya!!" _Hikaru cried, offended."Stop laughing!"

After a minute, he managed to regain control of himself, but he couldn't banish the huge grin that was breaking his face. "Dude, I see that sort of behavior as an _invite!_ Why aren't you taking him up on it? For _Touya_ to do something _that_ crazy! His hormones must be killing off the part of his brain that keeps him repressed!"

"So…so you think he's really coming on to me?" Hikaru asked warily.

"Why are you retarded? _Yes!_ I think he's fucking coming on to you, you idiot! What does he have to do, rip your clothes off??"

"Hey! Stop insulting me, dumbass. _You_ don't have any room to talk! I thought Isumi was going to lose his mind waiting for you to _get_ it!"

Waya felt a stab of annoyance at that. He was still sensitive over the rocky beginning that he and Isumi had experienced. "So what are you waiting for?"

"Waya, Akira trying to drive me crazy doesn't mean that he _loves_ me, right?" The other boy's tone was bleak.

"Er…for Touya, it just might. So you _do_ want him to love you?" He was a bit surprised to hear that from Hikaru.

"Of course," his friend murmured. "Who wouldn't want Akira to love them?"

"Lots of people. He's a freak. But so are you, so I guess that's fine."

"But I don't think he does, because he pushed me away pretty strongly before…"

"Hikaru…do you love Akira?" Waya held his breath, waiting.

"It wouldn't matter if I _did_. And I don't want to talk about that." Hikaru sounded guarded and defensive again.

"Hey, whatever. It's fine. But don't fuck up because you're determined to run away."

"What are you talking about!" Hikaru snapped. "_He_ ran away from _me!_"

"What if he didn't mean to?" Waya replied blandly. What the hell was the world coming to when he was taking up _Touya's_ cause?

"How could he not mean to!"

"Well, I'm sure you came on strong, being you. That's not his style."

Hikaru heaved a sigh. "Whatever. I said that I wasn't interested in figuring him out anymore."

"Uh huh. So…you went right to Kota's after getting back from being with Akira, didn't you?"

"Yes," Hikaru muttered. "Your point?"

"And things happened with Kota," Waya said patiently.

"You already _know_ that!"

"I just think that's interesting. You were thinking about Akira the whole time, weren't you?"

"Waya, that's too personal!" Hikaru exclaimed, irritated. A long moment passed with neither of them saying anything, and then the other boy continued softly, "He invited me up after we got back from the beach."

"Why didn't you go up?" Waya asked lightly, flopping back to lie on his pillow.

"Because I would have…we would have…" Hikaru's voice was soft and tremulous.

"Ah," Waya replied gently. "You would have been with him, right?"

"I've really got to get to sleep, Waya. I have a tutoring appointment in the morning, so I should go. Thanks for talking." Hikaru hung up.

Waya pulled his phone away from his ear, glaring at it. "Jerk, just hang up on me! What is it with you and hanging up lately?"

He set the phone down on the bed and stared up at his ceiling, thoughtful. So Hikaru was rushing things with Kota in order to distract himself from Touya. The fact that his friend had run right to his boyfriend after being tormented by Touya said something. That, and that Hikaru had been ready to go upstairs with the aqua-eyed boy and take their relationship to an intimate level, regardless of any prior commitments.

It would make sense for Hikaru to break up with Kota and go to Touya, but the airhead seemed convinced that Touya didn't really love him. Waya wondered what Touya was thinking and feeling about the whole thing. Touya might just love Hikaru after all.

"You dummy," he said fondly into the silence of his room.


	27. Wearing Down

**A/N: All right, guys! With the holidays happening, I won't be able to update next weekend, but I will probably update that week. Part of why I won't be able to do my regular weekly update is that I'll be writing a double chapter. And yes, I promise (cross my heart and hope to die!) that Hikaru and Akira will be getting together! So stop worrying and gnashing your teeth:D**

**To _all_ of you…thank you for following the fic and for all of the great reviews and support! I always look forward to reading what you all have to say!**

* * *

Akira leaned his forehead against the wall, his hand lightly resting on the phone. He was _planning_ on calling Hikaru, but it was becoming more and more difficult to do so.

It had been two weeks since their afternoon at the beach, and he had only seen the other boy a couple of times. Once at the Go Institute, and once leaving a nearby Go parlor. Both times Hikaru had made excuses about how he couldn't chat, he had to go, he was too _busy_ to have coffee with Akira, or to stop by his apartment.

He had been calling his rival almost every day, trying to schedule time with him, or at the very least just have a _conversation_ with him, but Hikaru hadn't been answering or returning his calls.

His hand curled into a fist as he recalled Hikaru's breezy smile that had acknowledged and dismissed him both times even before he'd had a chance to speak. Before the smile, however, there had been a raw moment of surprise and something else in those green eyes. Had it looked something like sadness, or was he just imagining it?

He hardly felt like keeping his tutoring appointments these days when Hikaru was so ardently _avoiding_ him. It wasn't fair to his clients. They were paying for the attention of Touya the professional, not a distracted and scattered Akira. He was certain that they noticed his lack of focus.

To make everything perfect, he had also seen his father at the Go Institute the other day. For what, he couldn't imagine. Perhaps he'd had a meeting, or he truly was considering rejoining the Go world. Whichever, it had startled Akira badly, especially since their only interaction had been in the form of his father giving him a savage glare as they passed each other.

Sadly, he hadn't even done anything to merit that glare. He and Hikaru barely _saw_ each other, nevermind having an intimate relationship with each other. He had almost laughed despite himself when the thought had crossed his mind in response to his father's look. It was never advisable to laugh in Touya Kouyo's face, however.

Akira had hoped that his father would have asked how he was doing on his own, but had known better than to expect such. He was surviving, although he was struggling with doing his own laundry, cleaning and cooking for himself. He'd always depended on his mother for such things, and he found that doing it all on his own took more of his time than he wanted to give. But there wasn't exactly an option.

He sighed and removed his hand from the phone, turning away. There was no point in calling Hikaru when—

The phone rang suddenly, startling the life out of him. After he recovered from having his heart leap into his throat, he turned back and lifted the handset out of its cradle, expecting that it would probably be his mother. He made an effort to compose himself before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi!" Hikaru replied energetically. "Are you busy this afternoon?"

Akira clutched the phone frantically, pressing it closer to his ear. He didn't think he'd heard that correctly. "No?" he tried.

"Good! Isumi and Waya invited us over tonight to hang out and play Go, and maybe watch a movie. And if we're going to play Go, you know I need you."

He felt his heart sink at the thought that Hikaru would need him only as a Go partner. "A-ah…yes, I'd like that." But he couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of finally getting to see Hikaru again. "Will Kota be there?" he asked, trying for a casual, offhand tone.

"No. I thought it could just be a friend thing." Hikaru seemed slightly taken aback by the question, possibly even defensive.

Akira smiled. "That's certainly agreeable to me."

"Ok, I'll pick you up at…4:00 P.M. How does that sound? That gives you two hours to primp and preen and whatever else you do to get beautiful."

"Hikaru!" he burst out, shocked. "I do _not_ primp or preen! Nor do I need that much time to prepare myself to see friends! Just what do you mean by 'get' beautiful, anyway? Are you implying that I'm not naturally attractive, that I must expend a great deal of effort to be that way?" He was slightly hurt by Hikaru's words.

The other boy's laughter rang out, almost deafening Akira. "Akira, you're so silly. You _know_ you're naturally beautiful. You couldn't be anything else."

There was a strange and awkward moment of silence between them after those words, as if the cover on something better kept secret had been pulled back just the slightest bit. It was too intimate for what they were _supposed_ to be to each other.

Akira cleared his throat. "Yes, 4:00 is fine. I'll be waiting for you."

"Yeah right, I had to wait for _you_ last time," Hikaru retorted, a grin in his voice.

Another one of those awkward little silences happened, both of them no doubt thinking of the beach and what had happened there. Akira sighed, feeling his body tingle at the memories that filled his mind. Being close to Hikaru…

"Still there?" the other boy murmured.

"Yes. Yes, I'll see you then. I apologize, I didn't mean to drift off."

"When are you going to have your house-warming party? It's long overdue, and you said you would a while ago."

"I…hadn't thought about it. I suppose I can plan it now that I'm completely settled in."

Hikaru sighed. "Can you do it before this weekend? I'm going to be pretty busy, and it's only going to get worse in the next several weeks, so I'd rather you do it before we go back to playing matches on top of everything else."

"I'll plan it."

"You'd better! I'll see you in a bit." Hikaru hung up.

Akira slowly set the phone back in its cradle, feeling vague and surreal as it sunk in that he'd be seeing Hikaru soon. It was true that he wouldn't be alone with his rival, but at least they'd be together, and _without_ Kota.

He headed for his bedroom, determined. He would choose the most flattering clothing in styles that Hikaru would appreciate, and he would wear a little cologne. He would spend more time than usual on his appearance, despite the fact that he had just been mercilessly teased about it. Perhaps _then_ the green-eyed boy would notice him again.

Whatever it took to get Hikaru's attention, he would _do_ it.

* * *

Hikaru knocked, rocking back on his heels as he waited for Akira to answer the door, slightly impatient. 

He hated that he'd been having to avoid his friend, but after last time, it was really the safest thing to do. But he _missed_ Akira, missed him terribly. Interestingly enough, it seemed that he thought about his rival even more than usual when they didn't see each other.

He had chosen to wear one of his Go t-shirts and a pair of ratty, worn out jeans, but he doubted that anyone would mind. It was just going to be a nice, casual hang-out night at Isumi's place. He was looking forward to spending time with everyone again. One of the drawbacks to having a boyfriend was that he had less time to spend with his friends.

The door opened and he straightened expectantly, psyched up despite himself. Akira stepped out without fanfare, offering him a slight, shy smile.

_Whoa._ Hikaru felt his mouth go dry as he stared. The other boy was wearing a filmy, black long-sleeved top with a deep v-neck, exposing delicate, perfect collarbones and a long, graceful column of pale throat. And were those actually _form-fitting_ jeans that Akira was wearing? He was painfully aware of his mind spinning and logic dissolving, especially when the bewitching scent of whatever his friend was wearing reached him.

_Oh my god. You're beautiful. Why are you **so** beautiful?_

"Hikaru?" Akira looked concerned, reaching out to wrap long, graceful fingers around Hikaru's naked wrist.

_Don't **touch** me - please! _ He couldn't think when Akira touched him. Ever.

Gently, he removed the fingers from around his wrist, folding them against Akira's palm. "I'm fine. Are you ready to go, then?" He released his friend's hand, unable to tolerate the intimacy and warmth for very long.

The other boy frowned slightly. "Yes."

He waited while Akira locked the door, then strode down the hall slightly ahead of him, not wanting to look upon the incredible beauty of his companion anymore…at least for a little while.

He needed some time to recover his composure, to say the least.

* * *

Akira smiled a little to himself as he tried to remain focused on the movie, but he couldn't help feeling a little triumphant. 

They had all played Go for the first few hours, and Hikaru had lost all three games to him by several moku. They were nearly on the same level now, and all it took for one of them to lose was a failure of focus or a weaker fighting spirit.

Hikaru was _obviously_ distracted. Between plays, he had caught the other boy staring fixedly at him, apparently fascinated by his collarbones, his throat and his hands. When he had gone into the kitchen to fetch the tea that Isumi had steeping, he'd caught the tail end of an interesting interaction between Waya and Hikaru, the former slapping the shoulder of the latter repeatedly and chastising him for something.

Had Hikaru been _looking_? At _him_? He would love to know. He hoped that his choice of clothing was working to good effect. He strongly disliked the feel of the jeans encasing his body so closely, but if it drew his rival's attention, he would suffer the discomfort willingly.

Wanting to press his edge, he had leaned down closely over Hikaru's shoulder to deliver the tea, brushing against the green-eyed boy and murmuring some nonsensical and pointless commentary as he withdrew. Hikaru had stuttered out his gratitude and rewarded Akira with a blush.

But it wasn't _enough_.

He slanted a glance through the dimness at where Hikaru sat beside him on the floor, seemingly intent on the movie.

Waya's sudden exclamation startled him, jerking his attention back to the screen. He was surprised to see that the characters were kissing.

"There! _There!_ I swear to god, Isumi, the movies you pick are _all_ like this! It wasn't an accident that time, _was_ it?" Waya had paused the movie and was glaring accusingly at his partner.

Akira was a little amused by their interaction, and fascinated and intrigued, as well. He had been surprised when they ended up lying on the couch together to watch the movie.

Isumi looked slightly guilty, but also a little sly. "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

Waya gasped, punching the dark-haired boy's shoulder lightly. "How _evil_! You chose that movie on _purpose_ for your own devious intentions!"

"What devious intentions?" Hikaru interjected cheerfully, a wide grin on his face.

"None of your business!" Waya cried, actually blushing.

Hikaru laughed wildly, falling back to lie on the floor and kick his feet in delighted amusement. "Oh, _god_, Waya! Isumi seduced you with one of _these_ movies?" That sent the green-eyed boy into fresh gales of laughter.

"Shut _up_, you little punk, or I'm gonna come down there and hurt you!" Waya was blushing harder now, and even Isumi had started laughing. "And you!" the auburn-haired boy growled, turning on his boyfriend. "You're not _allowed_ to laugh!"

Isumi actually smirked, blue eyes full of wickedness. "Oh? And what are you going to do about it if I decide to ignore your commands?"

Waya sputtered, incapable of responding.

Hikaru was laughing himself into suffocation. Akira leaned over him, smiling but a little worried. "Hikaru, you have to stop laughing."

"Can't…_help_ it…" the other boy gasped out, tears running down his cheeks from laughing so hard.

"I am _so_ getting you back!" Waya threatened, acting as if he were going to fling the remote at Hikaru's head.

"Don't, _don't_, Akira's in the way," Hikaru managed breathlessly, grinning up at Akira.

He leaned down slightly, closer to his rival's face. "I'll shield you from harm, even if it hurts me," he murmured, trying for teasing but ending up sounding more serious than he wished to. He had the feeling that he had just given the bleach-banged boy a tender look instead.

Hikaru's smile faded a little, softening in response to his own. "Would you really?"

"Hey, _hey_!" Waya barked. "None of that. There's already enough in the movie!"

"What are you talking about, Waya?!" Hikaru challenged with mock indignation.

"The sappy shit!"

"There's none of that over _here_, just with you guys," Hikaru replied tauntingly, sticking his tongue out at Waya and Isumi.

"Whatever," Waya retorted airily, waving the remote. "Now shut up and enjoy your gay romance." The movie resumed.

Hikaru rolled his eyes, but remained lying on the floor, his right arm bent behind his head.

Akira leaned back on his hands, trying to focus on the movie again, but the more he watched, the more he thought about Hikaru lying beside him. He had no idea when he would see the other boy again. He wanted to _kiss_ him. He wanted to lie down beside his rival and curl up under his arm. He wanted to act out any or all of the fantasies that were always haunting him.

He was practically frantic when he thought of time and opportunity running out. Some things simply stopped mattering in light of that, like his pride, dignity and maintaining decorum. Without Hikaru, all of that was meaningless.

Remembering his words to himself in the shower a couple of weeks ago, he glanced furtively at the other boy. The constantly changing light from the screen played over Hikaru's sun-bright features, warming his heart.

'_I _**do**_ love you',_ he thought wonderingly. But he was uncertain as to what to do with the feeling, how to express it to Hikaru in a way that was believable. He also worried about driving his friend away by being too forward, or just blurting it out. He didn't know how the green-eyed boy felt about _him_, or if he'd be rejected if he tried to say it. He was almost certain that he _would_ be rejected, as Hikaru had _Kota_, as he so often reminded Akira.

The other part of his thoughts in the shower didn't bear close study at the moment, especially as he was not alone, but he couldn't help but contemplate such things when Hikaru was close to him. He wanted to be closer than anyone else, to be the one that knew what the other boy was feeling and thinking before he himself even realized it.

Akira allowed his right hand to slowly creep towards Hikaru's, which was lying by his side. His rival seemed unaware of the stealthy approach.

He was vaguely aware that the pictures on the screen were becoming more intimate, but he couldn't concentrate on the movie at all. His entire universe had narrowed down to Hikaru's fingers, Hikaru's face.

When their fingers finally touched, Hikaru reacted immediately, wide green eyes leaping to Akira's face and doing nothing but staring for a long moment.

Akira couldn't smile, but he held that gaze, trying to allow reassurance and caring into his eyes, trying to _send_ it to Hikaru.

The other boy, looking terrified, struggled up and was promptly on his feet. "B-bathroom," Hikaru stammered, bolting.

As the door closed behind Akira's rival, the movie was paused yet again. Slowly, Akira turned his head to look at Waya, feeling those eyes burning into him.

Waya's amber eyes were fierce and protective. "What did you _do_ to him?"

"Waya," Isumi soothed, trying to defuse the situation.

"I just…touched his hand," Akira muttered as he glared back, annoyed at being challenged by _Waya_, of all people.

"What are you trying to do? What are your intentions, Touya?"

"That's none of your business," he bit out coldly, becoming thoroughly irritated at Waya's tone.

"Waya, don't," Isumi said sternly, laying a hand on the smaller boy's shoulder.

"_Hmph_," Waya responded sharply.

What had he done wrong? Why had Hikaru given him such a look before retreating to the safety of the restroom? What was different?

He sighed and crossed his legs, prepared to wait a while.

* * *

Hikaru leaned against the cold counter of the vanity, practically lying on it. He needed it to support him, anyway. 

Akira was _doing_ it again. Touching him like that. _Looking_ at him. Being too warm, too _sweet_. Each time, he felt perilously close to believing in it, to being lulled into falling into Akira's arms by it. He would never be able to stand it if he believed in what was offered, only to have it disintegrate beneath him.

And Kota. _Kota. _He was trying to have a relationship, and even though it was only three weeks old, Kota was a kind person. A good person to be with. One that cared about him and never played those maddening mind games. He liked Kota.

But Kota wasn't Akira, and no amount of denial or pretending would change that. The _only_ person that he wanted was the one and only Touya Akira. Too beautiful, too brilliant, too unattainable and too cold.

Unaware, he had clenched his trembling hands into fists and shut his eyes tightly. Whatever he felt for Akira was _many_ times more powerful than what he felt for Kota. It would be quite funny if it weren't so painful.

_Akira, my chest hurts. I feel like I'm suffocating. Why do you do this to me? _

Ignoring Akira's calls and messages was torture. Being surprised by seeing Akira when he was out and then having to blow the other boy off was even _more_ torturous. He had seen the hurt in those aqua eyes both times at his rebuff. He hated to crush the joy and excitement that Akira had greeted him with, eyes almost shining. It made him want to hate himself.

But to allow the intimacy and closeness was even worse. It made him think and feel things that he shouldn't, made him believe that he and Akira had a chance. And that would only send him spiraling into sickness and depression.

Now he had done it again, running away from Akira's touch because he was afraid of his own reaction, his own feelings. He couldn't trust himself. Wasn't there some way he could tell Akira that it wasn't that he didn't care without encouraging the other boy's attempts to bait him? Wasn't there a way?

He straightened, pulling his t-shirt into some semblance of order, and exited the bathroom. Akira was looking at him expectantly, the shadow of unhappiness and disturbance in his eyes.

Hikaru walked over calmly to stand beside Akira where he sat on the floor, refusing to look down and meet the eyes that were trained on him even now. He leaned down a little and dropped his hand to lightly stroke his rival's sleek, silky hair once, twice, burying his fingers in it at the base of Akira's neck before withdrawing.

_There. **There.** You felt that, didn't you? That I'll **always **care about you, no matter who or what._

The silence in the room was positively alive, and yet so heavy that he was unable to move, unable to walk away. Akira leaned against his leg, also silent. They stayed like that for what seemed like a whole minute, and Hikaru wasn't sure that he had the strength required to break the contact or the silence.

"Are we going to finish watching this gay-ass movie, or what?" Waya asked finally.

Slowly, Hikaru pulled away. Akira looked up at him with eyes that were almost all pupil, eyes that wanted something from him. He could tell that much, at least.

"I…I guess we could. It's only a little longer, right? Then I'll take Akira home."

"I'm glad you didn't bring that Kota dude," Waya remarked nonchalantly.

"Waya!" Hikaru protested. "You've never even _met_ him!"

"Don't have to."

Disgruntled, Hikaru sat down beside Akira again, but a little farther away. He didn't need any more provocation tonight, otherwise he'd have to go and seek Kota's assistance. He certainly wasn't in the mood for that.

Somehow he knew that if he allowed Akira any further liberties, he'd be going upstairs with the other boy when he took him home. That had to be avoided at all costs. His feelings would only become more deeply ingrained if he allowed that, and his heart would just break that much more when the inevitable rejection or 'I wasn't serious' came up.

* * *

Isumi blinked blearily as he settled back onto the couch from saying goodbye to Akira and Hikaru. Things had certainly been _strange_ between those two. 

He yawned widely, nudging Waya's shoulder with his. "Hey. Are you staying tonight?"

Waya made an irritated little noise, burrowing further into the couch cushions.

"I'll take that as a yes, then. What do you think about those two, anyway? Their behavior was quite unusual tonight."

One amber eye cracked open to regard him. "I think they need to get it over with already," the other boy mumbled sleepily.

"I wonder if that isn't exactly what they need to do. It certainly seems as if things are getting more intense, not less. I don't know how long Hikaru can keep this up. He'll have to choose. Do you suppose there's any chance that he won't choose Touya?"

Waya snorted. "Kota doesn't stand a _chance_. Hikaru doesn't think about anything else but Touya anymore. I can tell. Nothing else rolls around in his little brain but Touya's words, Touya's looks and Touya's Go matches."

Isumi smiled. "Hikaru is more intelligent than you give him credit for. He just has a little growing up to do, rather like someone _else_ I know." He nudged Waya again just to nail his point in.

Waya flailed half-heartedly, trying to swat him. "_Mean_ Isumi! I'm perfectly mature. Besides, I move a lot slower than Hikaru, and that should indicate maturity, right?"

"You _wish_," Isumi teased. "But I am concerned about that. I can't believe that he's already been somewhat intimate with Kota. As I recall, he had the same issue with his girlfriend, but that was mostly due to her pushing. I think this is all Hikaru. It does make sense, though, especially when he's trying to resist Touya."

"I'm worried that something even worse is going to happen soon. When I talked to him the other day, I managed to get him to tell me exactly what they did. That first time it was just touching each other, but Hikaru said that they've done more than that since. Just not sex. I'm afraid that the sex might come sooner rather than later."

"What makes you say that?" Isumi prompted, frowning.

Waya cuddled into his side, getting more comfortable. "Hikaru is getting more desperate. And Touya is driving him crazy. He keeps saying that. He's having trouble keeping up the good fight, I guess. I don't see why he fights at all. He should just…do it." Waya yawned.

"But I think he's afraid of becoming too involved. Wouldn't you say? You were sure of my feelings when we were together. Hikaru isn't sure of Touya's feelings. And Hikaru is emotionally fragile when it comes to Touya. They've become too intertwined. I knew all that obsession was going to lead them somewhere difficult."

"Yes, great wise one," Waya mocked.

"You're awfully wretched for being glued to my side!"

"You made me watch another one of _those_ movies, and you tricked me with one to begin with! It was no accident. I _owe_ you for that!" Waya sounded indignant, but the effect was a little spoiled as his voice was muffled by Isumi's chest.

"Hmm. But you're happy about where you've ended up, aren't you?" He stroked Waya's side, smiling.

"Mmm," Waya agreed reluctantly.

"Why don't we go to bed?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Waya's head.

The amber-eyed boy lifted his head, grinning cheekily. "Why don't you _carry_ me? That's romantic, isn't it?"

Isumi laughed. "_You_ don't know the _meaning_ of the word 'romantic'!"

"Oh yeah? _I'll_ show _you_ romantic." Waya lunged for his neck, biting him.

"Ahh! Waya, that is _not_ romantic! This is exactly my—" he broke off as the biting became a caress of lips, the wet heat of his lover's mouth against his throat silencing his complaint.

"What was that?" Waya murmured against his collarbone.

Isumi had no verbal response to make.


	28. Cornered

**A/N: Lord have mercy. It was so chaotic and frantic trying to finish this chapter and the next during the holidays! Argh!! Nevertheless, my poor readers, I apologize. I hope that you're all still with me. I hope you enjoy them! It's very sad when one has to abandon company with, "I _MUST _complete writing the update for my fanfic. You don't UNDERSTAND!" Then one must explain to aforementioned company that no, you cannot write boy-smut with them watching. It just doesn't work! (It's 'unnatural', my roommate chimes in – and how right she is.)**

**Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year's and whatever else may fall in there!**

* * *

"Thank you for actually having your house-warming before the weekend, Akira. I was worried you'd delay until the last minute." Hikaru smiled, slapping a black stone down on the Go-ban and right in the middle of Akira's territory. 

Touya responded fiercely a heartbeat later, aqua eyes never leaving Hikaru's face. "I said that I would."

Isumi may have had several cups of sake already, but that did not make him any less capable of recognizing passionate looks when he saw them. He had been watching Touya watching Hikaru with burning eyes for the last several hours – essentially since he and Waya had arrived.

Hikaru had already been there by that time, playing a game against Touya. They had since played another game, and he and Waya had begun their own after watching for some time.

As the night wore on, he was able to determine that the bleach-banged boy was rather relaxed and not the least bit concerned about Touya's intense focus. In fact, Isumi almost suspected that Hikaru was somehow _unaware_ of the heated glances that Touya kept sending his way.

Their house-warming gifts were neatly arranged on the coffee table, consisting of tea, a rice cooker, various food items and too much sake (the last being from Hikaru, surprisingly enough). They had _all_ had too much to drink, in Isumi's opinion, especially Touya.

Isumi wondered if he shouldn't take Hikaru aside and _warn_ him. For he was fairly certain that something was going to happen tonight. Touya was acting too strangely for anything else. He would never have imagined that Touya might have enough nerve, courage and initiative to take such action, despite the fact that the aqua-eyed boy exhibited those traits unfalteringly in his Go. Go and love were very different things, and he knew that Touya had not had much experience with the latter.

After some thought and a dark glance from Waya for his hesitation during their game, he decided to leave it alone. His interference simply wasn't necessary this time around.

He and Waya would leave soon. They'd enjoyed themselves, but both Hikaru and Touya were partially unavailable to interact with, as they were slowly withdrawing into their own little world - a world in which only Touya and Hikaru existed.

_Good luck, Hikaru._

* * *

Hikaru sighed, staring up at the ceiling. It had been a nice party, after all. Waya and Isumi had left, and now it was just he and Akira. The other boy was presently in the kitchen, making tea for the two of them. 

He stretched where he lay on Akira's bed, yawning, and made as if to slip his hands under the pillow. He froze when his fingers encountered something hard and cold.

Startled, he sat up, lifting the pillow to investigate. What he saw lying there shocked him even more. It was a framed picture of _him_, a picture of him lying on the floor in the clothing he'd worn on Akira's moving day. He recalled the moment quite clearly.

Blushing, he quickly put the pillow back over it and resumed his previous position, trying not to wonder what it meant and failing miserably. It had likely been on the bedside table before they'd arrived for the house-warming party, then quickly concealed under the pillow at some point.

Why would Akira have a framed picture of him beside the bed…?

"Are you okay, Hikaru?" Akira called from the kitchen. "You're terribly quiet."

"Uh, yeah," he called back. "Just resting." He closed his eyes to be more credible, though his mind was racing furiously.

A few minutes later, he heard the sound of something being set down on the dresser. Hikaru opened his eyes, spotting the tray with their tea on it first. That had been the noise he'd heard. As his eyes located Akira, he also noticed that the other boy was reaching for something on the bookshelf – the _camera_.

"Akira…Akira, _no_. Give the camera a rest." His rival's obsession with photography was beginning to concern him.

Akira turned back, the camera raised before his face.

Hikaru sighed and remained lying there, waiting patiently for the picture to be taken. He couldn't understand what could possibly be so intriguing and photogenic about him at _this_ moment. He was wearing casual clothing, consisting of jeans and a black t-shirt. There was nothing remotely interesting about it.

Regardless, the click and whirr of the camera came. And then a second time. And a third.

Hikaru lifted his head, staring incredulously. "Akira, you've got to be kidding me. I didn't even _move_."

Akira's finger moved yet again, taking another photograph.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. If you want to take pictures…" He grinned, feeling evil and mischievous. If he played along with this, it would surely freak Akira out and send him running out of the room.

Hikaru sat up and rose to his knees, slowing dragging his t-shirt over his head and letting it fall onto the bed beside him.

Akira was _still_ snapping away.

He crawled across the bed in a leisurely and admittedly scandalous fashion, embarrassing himself in the process. But he'd already made up his mind that he would get Akira back by making _him_ break first. He worked to keep what he hoped was a sexy smile plastered on his face.

When he reached the end of the bed, he rose and slowly stalked towards the other boy, swinging his hips in a slightly exaggerated fashion.

Contrary to stopping the pictures, Akira began snapping them even _faster_.

_Okay, then, let's try _**this**, he thought smugly, fingers toying with the button of his jeans. After no change from Akira, he actually _unbuttoned_ them.

Akira showed no signs of stopping the frantic photo shoot, despite obviously shaking fingers.

Disturbed now, Hikaru closed the distance between them and grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the camera, pulling it away from Akira's face. Those aqua eyes were brilliant and maddened, incandescent with something that looked similar to fury, but softer. The intensity of the other boy's eyes took his breath away.

"Akira…you know this is _strange_, right?" He smiled weakly and paused, waiting for a response. When none was forthcoming, he tried again. "Hello?"

Akira's lips trembled for a moment, brows drawing down in what appeared to be torment or pain.

That was the only warning he had. Suddenly Akira's lips were pressed against his, and his rival's free hand had slipped down the back of his jeans and under his boxers in order to grab his backside. He had a fleeting thought that his friend's hand was undoubtedly covering the tattoo before even that was swept away.

"'Kira—" he fought to get out, the room spinning around him.

Akira ignored him, hungry lips opening his to admit a tongue that was just as desperate and starved. The hand with the camera struggled free of his and managed to set said object down on the dresser before returning to make a fist in the back of Hikaru's hair, preventing him from pulling away or breaking the kiss.

Startlement shot through Hikaru's warm, fuzzy thoughts when he felt the bed pressing into the backs of his legs before he was pushed down on it. The warmth of Akira's hand left his backside, only to brand his naked chest. He tried to struggle, to push the other pro away, but he didn't have the strength. All of his limbs felt weak and shaky.

He helplessly kissed back, running his hands down Akira's clothed back over and over. Vaguely, he knew that he needed to escape. The other boy's silky hair was caressing his face, his cheeks, and it was dizzying and intoxicating. The _real_ Akira, not an imitation and his imagination…

Why was Akira doing this when the other boy didn't care…? _Didn't care._ It sent a frisson of cold through the heat that was immolating him. If they did this together now, how would he ever be able to face Akira again without thinking of it, without feeling it? It meant more to him than it did to Akira. How would he be able to live with himself, knowing that he was just a one-night stand? That he had not been that important to his rival, after all…

The thoughts further dispelled the warmth of Akira's touch, bringing him back to himself.

He was dimly aware that it was _him_ that was moaning. His awareness of his body suddenly clarified and he was able to feel the fingers alternately stroking over his stomach and working on getting his zipper down.

Hikaru managed to break their kiss. "Akira!" he choked out, breathing labored. "Nooo…n-no."

Even though those eyes were blazing into his, there was no response, so his pleas may as well have been ignored completely. Deliberately, Akira's exploring fingers slipped into his jeans, brushing his body lightly.

He cried out and fell back against the bed, barely able to maintain his equilibrium.

"I had to have the picture…of you lying in my bed, on my pillow," Akira murmured against Hikaru's lips, stroking him more firmly.

Hikaru gasped, back arching. Blind panic shot through him as he felt his friend trying to work his jeans down off of his hips with one hand. He had to get _out_ of here!!

"Don't let Kota touch you," Akira whispered near his ear, the fingers of the other boy's free hand lightly tracing over his collarbones.

"Too late!" Hikaru exclaimed, glad for the opening that would allow him to escape.

Akira's fingers stilled. "What do you mean?" his rival breathed, expression horrified.

"He _has_ touched me," Hikaru replied sharply.

But he regretted saying it as soon as he saw the effect the words had on Akira. Those aqua eyes were wide and full of pain, even shock.

_But you **don't** love me, I know it, so don't look at me like that!_

He shook himself mentally and grabbed his t-shirt, rolling out from under Akira. "Stop playing around, Akira," he gritted out, throwing his shirt on as he made for the door.

* * *

Akira recovered just in time to hear the door close. He leapt up, tearing through his apartment to burst through his front door and run after Hikaru. 

"Hikaru!" he yelled, running to catch up. "_Hikaru_, I _am_ serious!" he cried as the other boy began to run.

He followed determinedly. Hikaru was in no state to drive, and he wouldn't allow it, no matter how his rival felt about it. Akira took the stairs just as recklessly as the other.

What had happened? What had gone wrong? Hikaru had _liked_ being touched by him, of that he was very certain. The high blush and physical reactions were very clear. But the other boy had said, 'Stop playing around'. Did that mean that he suspected that Akira was doing this as entertainment without emotional attachment?!

"You _idiot!_" he yelled down the stairwell, barely concerned about the feelings of his neighbors or anyone else that might mind him yelling after midnight.

He pushed through the door at the bottom and was able to spot Hikaru – but halfway across the parking lot. The boy was _way _too fast. He might have to take up running just so he would have enough endurance to actually _catch_ Hikaru.

To his relief, the other pro did not slow to get in his car, but kept right on running. The relief didn't last long, however. Where was the green-eyed boy going in the middle of the night without a car? Where could he run to?

"Hikaru!" he cried desperately, running harder. As he reached the sidewalk that ran along the street, he was forced to slow. His lungs were about to burst. He stopped completely after making it several yards down the sidewalk, figuring that he'd be no good to Hikaru if his heart burst. He simply couldn't make it.

Akira watched helplessly as Hikaru vanished into the night, still going as if he could run forever. He made a soft sound of frustration as the tears he'd suppressed welled up in his eyes.

They would not be together tonight. Maybe not ever.

And Kota had already touched _his_ Hikaru. How much? How far? And did his rival like Kota's touch better than Akira's?

Akira hung his head and turned back towards his apartment building, walking slowly. He would try calling Hikaru's cell phone, if only to make certain that the other boy was okay.

* * *

Hikaru ran until he thought he would pass out. Only then did he slow, throwing a look over his shoulder to be sure that he had really lost Akira. He noticed with relief that there was a convenience store just up ahead. 

His body was also aching with desire for the aqua-eyed boy, which made it difficult to do _anything_, especially run. But the sheer panic helped.

What was he supposed to do _now_? He was shoeless and without a car. There had to be a bus stop somewhere nearby, but he didn't want to stumble around in the middle of the night looking for one. Besides, would they even allow him on without shoes?

He trudged across the deserted parking lot of the convenience store, a plan slowly forming in his head. If he could call Kota and ask to be picked up…but how to explain that he was shoeless and at the convenience store rather than Akira's apartment?

Perhaps he could play up his drunkenness and say that he had been hungry, and didn't want to put Akira out…and then that he missed Kota and decided he'd rather stay the night with him?

Hikaru arched a brow at the stupidity of the idea, but thought that he might be able to pull it off if he bought some ramen from the convenience store. He ducked his head guiltily at the thought of lying to Kota. There was also the slight complication of his omissions regarding what Akira really meant to him, and that Akira seemed…well, interested in him lately.

He pulled the door open and slipped down an aisle before the clerk could notice that he didn't have any shoes on and grabbed a couple of instant ramen cups. When the man turned away for a moment, he sidled up to the counter and deposited his items.

"Ah!" the clerk exclaimed in startlement, whirling to face Hikaru. "You surprised me! I thought it was my imagination that I'd heard someone come in. I didn't even see you."

He smiled at the man. "Sorry about that."

Hikaru took his phone out as the clerk rang him up. He dumped his several yen on the counter, scooped up his purchases, and darted out the door to dial Kota's number.

It rang several times, causing him to worry that perhaps he'd be waking his boyfriend up. He couldn't seem to recall Kota's work schedule.

"Hello?"

"Kota!" he exclaimed joyfully. Saved! "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I go to work in the afternoon tomorrow. But I thought _you'd_ be asleep at Akira's place by now…?" Kota's pleasant voice was laced with concern.

"Ah, well, about that. I got hungry and wandered down to the nice store on the corner here. I've had too much to drink, so I can't really drive anywhere, and I _really_ want to see you. Really-really. In fact, I'd rather spend the night at your place than at Akira's."

"Really?" Kota replied breathlessly, sounding enchanted.

Hikaru tucked his chin down, wincing at the fact that this was all in order to be rescued from Akira. And here his boyfriend was so charmed by it. It made him feel even scummier.

"Really," he assured Kota with faux cheerfulness.

"You've never spent the night here before," the man murmured.

"Nope, but I think it'd be nice. Will you come and pick me up?"

"Of course! I'll be right there, just tell me where you are."

Hikaru had to walk out to the corner to inform Kota of his location, but after that, he had only to wait.

They hung up after a few more sentimental exchanges, and he dropped the phone back in his pocket, covering his eyes with one hand. "Oh, Kota, I'm such a _jerk_."

He dropped his hand, staring out into the silent darkness. The sound of his cell ringing shattered his thoughts, and he hurriedly retrieved it from his pocket, peering down at the screen.

"_Akira_," he muttered darkly, turning his phone off with a scowl. "I told you to stop fucking with me!"

Why couldn't the other boy just leave him in peace? There was no way he'd ever be able to give Kota his full attention while Akira was shining before him like some godforsaken beacon. Shining and beautiful, brilliant like a fiery star or a perfectly cut diamond. It made him just want to keep reaching out, reaching for it to take it into his hands.

"But you're not mine," he murmured into the darkness, still staring down at his lifeless phone.

* * *

"_I'm not around right now, so leave a mess—Waya, stop it! Give it back!" Beep._

Akira took a deep breath, gathering his courage to respond to Hikaru's familiar, chirpy little voicemail message. "Hikaru…Hikaru, I _am_ serious. I meant it. Please call me. You left your shoes here. Just call me and tell me that you're okay. I'm worried about you. I…"

He didn't have the courage to say _it_ on the phone, after all. He hung up without telling the other boy how he felt.

He was already in his pajamas and lying in bed, but he doubted that he'd be able to sleep until he knew that Hikaru was all right.

* * *

"So do you usually behave so strangely when drinking?" Kota teased, arching a brow at Hikaru as he drove them back to his apartment. 

Hikaru laughed self-consciously, looking down. "Ah…I hope not. I am very impulsive, though."

"Hmm, I know, but it's usually a _good_ thing," his boyfriend replied with a grin.

He rolled his eyes, remembering half a dozen times that it had _not _been a good thing. He was certain that Akira had every single instance catalogued… Hikaru steered his mind firmly away from the subject of his torment.

"Isn't Touya going to worry about you?" Kota asked.

"Um, no. I called him and told him and he was fine with it. He likes to be alone anyway." Ugh, things were getting deep.

"Why don't you show me some of this Go of yours when we get to my apartment?" Kota suggested with a smile, sparing him a swift glance before returning his attention to the road.

Hikaru winced. "Ah, but I've been playing it _all night_, Kota! I don't think my fingers can even hold a stone right now! And my eyes are going to fall out of my head from withstanding Akira's death glare for hours! You don't know what he's like, Kota – he's got this laser beam focus. It drills into your skull!"

"I _do_ know what the glares are like," Kota replied, tone slightly annoyed.

Oops. "Right, of course you do!" Hikaru exclaimed brightly. "But you've never seen his _game_ face. That's of an entirely different magnitude."

"Does he always stare at you like that?" his boyfriend asked casually, seemingly disinterested.

Hikaru grinned, leaning back in his seat. "All the time. I'm surprised my eyes haven't been burned out. But let's not talk about Akira right now."

"_You_ brought him up," Kota replied smoothly, not looking at him.

"Well, yeah, but that's because Akira and Go are like toast and jam. Or miso and tofu. Or—" He was about to blithely continue on, but his words dried up when he saw that Kota was frowning at him.

Stern, dark eyes fixed on him for a heartbeat. "You do want to spend time with _me_, yes, Hikaru?"

He swallowed anxiously, forcing a smile. "Of course! I said so, didn't I?"

His boyfriend didn't reply.

Fortunately, they were turning in to Kota's apartment complex. If he had his way, they wouldn't need to talk. He didn't think he could bear the sexual frustration any longer. Akira worked over both his mind and his body every time! What was he supposed to do?

He was beginning to think that…perhaps things wouldn't work out with Kota. Whether or not Akira wanted him, he couldn't stop thinking about the other pro, and he was no fit companion for anyone in such a state.

* * *

Hikaru turned the shower off and toweled himself lightly, rolling an idea over in his mind. Evaluating it. Deciding on a course of action. 

He hung the towel back up and stepped out of the shower stall, letting himself out of the bathroom and into the darkness of Kota's room. Moving slowly, he found the door and opened it partway, slipping out into the living room to stand and stare at his boyfriend.

Kota didn't notice immediately, being engrossed in something that looked like a documentary.

Hikaru forgave him for that, especially since he was standing in the man's peripheral vision. "Kota," he called softly.

His boyfriend glanced over, then did a double take. "Hikaru!" the dark-haired man gasped out, shielding his eyes. "What…what on earth…? Did you need something?"

"I do," he admitted, watching Kota. Some corner of his mind was analyzing and filing away every response.

"What…might that be? A towel, perhaps?" Kota tried to smile, eyes still covered.

"I don't need a towel," he murmured hoarsely. "I want to have sex. _Now_."

"W-what?!" his boyfriend stammered, dropping his hands finally to stare. "Are you…are you serious, Hikaru? But you've never…"

"Yes, I want to." He walked across the room towards Kota. Even though it was a relatively short distance, it felt like miles when crossed without a scrap of clothing on. Comfortable nudity was obviously not his strong suit.

Kota was staring at him with heated, adoring eyes the entire time.

As he came within range, the man's hands rose to rest lightly on his hips, and dark eyes rose to meet his. "You're certain?" Kota whispered, hands caressing his skin lightly, reverently. "It will probably be somewhat painful…"

Hikaru nodded, trying to ignore the anxiety building within him. What did it matter? His body was desperate, his heart was cold and Akira wasn't here.

More to the point, he no longer felt capable of dealing with his rival, and was terrified to hear the truth of what the other boy felt. He knew without a doubt that he couldn't handle hearing that they were just friends with the possibility of benefits. Wasn't it better not to hear it? Not to drive Akira away will harsh words, or anger or losing control?

He didn't think that he was capable of living without Akira anymore. They'd been 'together' for so long. That was the worst of it. How could he keep the balance? What would keep Akira near him? Friendship? Love? Sex? Why didn't he know the answer?

What if Akira's interest in him now was only _because_ he was focusing on someone else?

"Hikaru?" Kota asked quietly, squeezing his hips gently.

"Let's do it," he repeated, gaze refocusing to stare into and through his boyfriend's dark eyes.

* * *

Hikaru grimaced as he shifted on the bed. Kota had been right. It _had_ hurt, but it had also been very enjoyable after the edge of the pain dulled. He'd been tense, unable to relax, but he had told his boyfriend to go on. To get on with it. 

"You're so adorable," Kota murmured, lightly running a hand along Hikaru's thigh.

"Mmm," he responded, trying not to think of how it would have been if he'd only succumbed to Akira earlier tonight, to hell with feelings and thoughts and relationships. The familiar twinge of guilt came hard on the heels of those thoughts.

_Dammit, I suck._

"It's too bad your backside is difficult to look at," Kota continued coolly.

"Eh?" Hikaru responded, surprised, turning his head to meet the man's eyes. "What do you—" he broke off, realizing suddenly what it was that his boyfriend must have seen.

"Yes, that tattoo," Kota confirmed. "Just wondering why _Touya's_ given name is permanently stamped there, that's all."

"Oh…well. _That._" He laughed self-consciously. That _damned_ thing got him in more trouble…! "I was drunk one night, and Waya dragged me out to get a tattoo. The next thing I knew, I woke up with this. I really don't know anything else about it."

Those dark eyes examined him, still slightly guarded. "Touya's not just a friend to you." It wasn't a question.

Hikaru glanced away, staring at a framed picture of poppies hanging on the wall. "Uh…well, I liked him for a very long time, and realized it a couple of months ago, but he turned me down. So…that's not very much more than friends."

"Hmm. I'm surprised that he turned you down with how I saw him act towards you."

"Who knows with him," Hikaru replied brusquely, annoyed with the line of questioning.

"I love you, you know," Kota said quietly.

Hikaru held back a wince. He could feel dark eyes staring intently at him, waiting for some kind of sign. "A-ah…" What was he supposed to say to that?! "I…I care about you, too, but I'm not sure I know what love feels like…"

"As long as you don't love Touya, I'm sure things will work out well," Kota said with a faint smile, laying a comforting hand on his arm.

_Love Akira. Did he love Akira? Was that why everything hurt so much?_

He smiled back, nodding dumbly, and cursed himself again. Perhaps he should avoid Akira and focus on Kota a little more. He was fueling his own obsession by spending too much time with the aqua-eyed boy. It made perfect sense.

But could he stay away from Akira for long enough?


	29. Ultimatum

Akira took a deep breath and knocked on Hikaru's front door. His rival's abandoned shoes dangled from the fingers of his other hand.

He hated to stop by unannounced, but it had been two days since he'd last seen the other boy and there had been no response to his messages. He was very concerned that perhaps Hikaru had never made it home, or that some other terrible thing had happened.

Hikaru's mother answered the door, looking quite surprised to see him. "Oh! Touya-kun, I didn't know you were coming over."

He bowed deeply. "I apologize for stopping by unannounced, Shindou-san, but I needed to see Hikaru."

She smiled. "You're always welcome here. He has another friend over right now, but I'm sure that he wouldn't mind you going right on up."

"Thank you." He quickly toed off his shoes and put on house-slippers, setting Hikaru's shoes down as well.

Who else could be over? Waya? Much as he disliked seeing Waya, he would never avoid seeking Hikaru out for something that trivial. For anything, actually.

Akira ascended the stairs quickly, heartbeat accelerating the closer he drew to the other pro's bedroom door. Events from the night of the house-warming party kept whirling around in his head, mixing with his pre-existing feelings for Hikaru.

He'd had enough of this – it was time to tell his friend how he truly felt about him. He had a moment's hesitation before opening the door, uncertain of his reception and how he should handle someone else's presence during something that should be private.

Shaking his head, he turned the knob, slowly pushing the door open. The sight that greeted him made him wish he hadn't.

Hikaru was sprawled out across the bed, half undressed, face flushed. Akira's thoughts scattered like stones spilled from a Go-ke. His body responded instinctively to the sight, recalling last night quite clearly.

Unfortunately, _Kota_ was lying across the green-eyed boy and kissing down his torso in a rather determined fashion. His rival was not resisting – only lying there with his eyes closed.

**_Mine!_** he thought furiously, outraged at the trespass of Kota upon his favorite person.

The nausea kicked in suddenly, mingling badly with his desire and rage.

Before Akira could retreat unobtrusively to gather himself, Hikaru's head rolled to the side, green eyes opening to capture his. They widened slowly in horror as they registered his presence. "Akira!" Hikaru exclaimed, moving to sit up.

He turned and ran back down the stairs, pulse hammering in his throat and temples. He felt sick and aroused all at once, body flashing alternately hot and cold. Seeing Hikaru like that – but not with him. There was no way he could tell the other boy how he felt after interrupting something like that. It hadn't looked like they were going to stop any time soon before he'd barged in.

"Akira, _Akira!_" Hikaru called after him, pounding down the stairs in an effort to catch up.

He didn't want Hikaru to catch him.

He wanted to run away and hide from this situation, from the state his life was in.

He didn't want to meet those eyes again.

Akira ran faster.

* * *

Hikaru was still trying to button his jeans as he ran down the stairs. It didn't help that he was accosted by his mother on his way to the front door.

She frowned at him, moving to intercept him at the foot of the stairs. "Hikaru! Where are you going like—"

"Shut up, mom, Akira's upset!" he blurted out, dodging past her to race out the front door that Akira had left open in his rush to vacate the building.

He sprinted down the driveway after Akira, barefoot and shirtless. He knew it would be better to leave things be, more convenient, but he just couldn't make the easy choice.

The fact that it was Akira made questions of logic and convenience moot – his heart automatically took control of his body when those aqua eyes looked at him like that. As if Akira's world had shattered before him.

As he came within range, he reached out and snagged his rival's arm, swinging the aqua-eyed boy around to face him and thus forcing him to a sudden halt.

"You're a _jerk_!" Akira spat at him, eyes fierce and wild like those of a cornered animal.

"W-what??" he stuttered, shrinking back a little at Akira's vehemence but not releasing the slender wrist in his grasp. "What did _I_ do?"

"You never called me back, and I left messages! I was _so_ worried about you, and since you never called me back, I had to come over to make sure that you were still alive! I didn't even _sleep_ that night!" Akira's voice was quavering with distress, even while containing a note of anger.

Belatedly, he noted the dark circles under Akira's eyes, the lines of strain around them. "You were that worried about me?" he asked softly, surprised.

"Yes, you idiot!" the other boy snapped. "If you had listened to the messages, you would have _known_! Why didn't you listen?" Akira's eyes had paled in the way they always did when his rival was very upset.

Hikaru captured Akira's other hand in mid-gesture and slowly started pulling the other boy back towards his house. It would be better not to have loud arguments in the middle of the street. It was bad enough that his mother and Kota were standing outside the front door, watching them argue.

"Answer me!" his rival barked, eyes flaring like something about to explode.

His shoulders tensed involuntarily, quite familiar with the 'critical point' tone. "Because I've been busy," he muttered rebelliously. "_Sorry._"

"You're too busy for _me_, your only rival and best friend?" Akira asked quietly, eyes narrowing.

Hikaru sighed through clenched teeth. "I can't give you as much time as I used to, Akira. I _have_ someone, and you're just that – my _friend._ That's how it is with normal friends. You know? I've probably given you too much over the years because you're so demanding."

Akira glared darkly enough at him to burn through steel, tugging violently in an attempt to free his hands from Hikaru's grip. "Is _that_ the only reason? Just because I'm _demanding_?"

Hikaru choked on the tension that suddenly tightened in his throat, realizing his mistake in phrasing only after his friend's reaction. "No, of course it isn't. It's just…it was easy to…to do." He sounded so pathetic and timid!

"Why can't friends spend all of their time together?" the aqua-eyed boy demanded, lifting his chin in challenge.

"Because there are _other_ things in life when we become adults," he said under his breath, very aware of his mother's presence.

"Oh, _yes_. _That._ I just had a shining example of what you mean, as I obviously interrupted something. That's probably what has been keeping you so _busy_ lately, so occupied! Isn't that right, Hikaru?" Akira's eyes were dangerous now, like thin ice. "And you never _tell_ me, damn you!" the other boy cried, looking wounded.

"B-but it doesn't matter!" he stuttered, looking for a way to dig himself out of the rapidly collapsing hole that he found himself in.

"What does Touya-kun mean, Hikaru?" his mother asked, sounding concerned.

"He's obsessive," Hikaru said as an aside to his mother.

Akira reared back, eyes flashing. "_Who's_ obsessive, _Hikaru_?? Who left _me_ fifteen messages in a handful of days? Who wouldn't leave _me_ alone? Who kissed _me_? Who has a tattoo of my name? I think that's _you_, Hikaru!" His rival managed to free one wrist and was gesturing wildly and somewhat violently at him.

He bristled, glaring back, and tossed his bangs out of his face. "Fine!" Hikaru snarled hotly. "I'll leave you _alone_!"

"I didn't say I _wanted_ to be left alone!" the other boy shot back, voice raised almost to yelling.

"Then what the fuck _do_ you want? Because I sure as hell can't tell!! First you say no, then you won't leave me alone—"

"What is this about, Hikaru?" his mother broke in again, voice becoming stern. "And watch your language, young man."

Hikaru glanced at her briefly. "Mom, this doesn't involve you."

The curt dismissal didn't seem to faze her. "Of course it does. You're my son, and I suspected that there was an issue that you wouldn't confide in me about, especially when you'd come home crying like a little boy, and now I—"

"Oh GOD, mom, please—" Hikaru began, humiliated and annoyed.

"Those Western mannerisms—" Akira was chastising him.

Kota broke in at the same time. "You know, Hikaru, I thought you told me _everything_--"

Hikaru released Akira's wrist and clapped his hands to his ears, closing his eyes tightly. "AHHH!!!! I can't take it! Will all of you just _please…_ oh, forget it!" He threw his hands up in the air and pivoted on his heel, turning to stalk down the street by himself.

"Where are you going?!" Akira snapped. "I'm not finished yet!"

"Of _course_ you're not finished," he muttered under his breath, kicking at a loose stone with his bare foot. The pain of connection was minimal, and did nothing to distract him from the tearing feeling in his chest and the confusion in his mind.

"I'll call you later," he tossed over his shoulder. "Thanks for caring. Really." He could hear the silent burn of Akira's reaction to his offhand response, but he would have to fix it later.

He couldn't deal with anything else at the moment. He needed time to think.

* * *

Akira _wished_ that he still had Hikaru's shoes in his hand. At least he would have had something to hurl after the other boy. As it was, he could barely restrain himself from yelling something rude back.

He was left standing there awkwardly, Shindou-san and Kota staring at him as if the mess was all _his_ fault. Fortunately, he wasn't the one to break it.

"So, Fujie-kun, I take it that there's something more than friendship between my son and yourself?" Her tone was deceptively casual as she indicated Kota's shirtless state and bare feet.

Kota paused, looking blank and slightly frantic. "Ahh…you see, Shindou-san—"

"Kota has been dating Hikaru for slightly more than three weeks," Akira broke in coldly, glaring at Kota from the corner of his eye.

Hikaru's mother gasped. "I _never_ would have…Fujie-kun, you _do_ realize that you may no longer spend unchaperoned time with my son. In addition, even though Hikaru is almost an adult, he is still under my roof. I'm not sure what I think of this relationship, or even if I want to allow it to continue."

There was an uncomfortable silence during which Kota shifted stance at least twice and Shindou-san cleared her throat.

"How old are you, Fujie-kun?" Hikaru's mother finally asked.

Akira hid a smirk as he pretended to ignore the conversation.

"I'm…twenty-three, ma'am." Kota's tone was dull and flat.

"Oh, that's certainly too old for my Hikaru, even if you weren't a boy." Shindou-san replied matter-of-factly.

He was positively bubbling over with mirth at that last remark. This just got better and better.

_Take _**that**_, Kota. _

He glanced over when he heard the closing of the front door and had to control his expression when he saw that he had been left alone with _Kota_. The man was giving him a cool, measuring look that wasn't very pleasant.

"So, _Touya_. Trying to start trouble again? Give it up." Kota walked down the driveway towards him, posture deceptively casual.

The attitude of the other immediately put him on his guard. He waited Hikaru's boyfriend out.

"After all," the man continued, "I'm his _boyfriend._ You're only his rival. I hate to have to bring this home to you so harshly, but it seems that you're bound and determined to challenge me until I set things straight."

Akira remained silent, glaring balefully into the dark eyes that looked down into his, watching for his reaction.

Kota shrugged and continued. "It's like this. I rank. You don't. Rivals don't get the same privileges. You've never done the things with him that I have. I know him in ways you never will, and more intimately than you ever will. Rival, boyfriend. _Not the same. _I'm already here. If you've changed your mind, you're too late. He's mine – in every way."

"What…what do you mean?" Akira asked with wide eyes, afraid of what the answer would be. Nausea had begun gnawing in the pit of his stomach again at those words.

Hikaru _had_ said that Kota had 'touched' him, but…?

Kota smirked knowingly, tilting his head a little. "What do _you_ think? Are you really that innocent? I know _all_ of him. He's beautiful, isn't he?"

Akira choked, seeing the earlier image of Hikaru and Kota all over again. They had…they'd _actually_…

_Hikaru!_ Something deep within him collapsed, crushed by the knowledge that his Hikaru had been tainted and defiled by being touched by someone that wasn't him. Not just touched – completely possessed.

Those dark eyes hardened suddenly. "And I _love_ all of him. He's mine, so step off. You're going to have to live with your regret."

_NO! **No…**_ Akira closed his eyes, covering his mouth with one hand. If only he could will it all away.

Gathering what was left of his dignity and control, he offered Kota his most venomous glare. "We'll just see about _that_." His voice was not steady on delivery, but at least he wasn't crying…yet. He could feel the heat and pressure behind his eyes, just waiting for the first moment that he wasn't under observation.

He turned away stiffly, intent on making at least a couple of blocks before he lost the last shreds of his control.

* * *

Hikaru slowly made his way back towards his house, even though he would rather have never returned. But he had been gone for at least an hour, and he needed to have a talk with Kota.

Especially since he had just listened to the messages that Akira had left for him. He smiled when he recalled Akira's voice saying, 'I'm _serious_, Hikaru! I want to be closer to you. Please call me back!'

So that was why Akira had asked him if he'd listened to the messages. Slowly, things were coming together for him. He'd really been dense on this one. Waya had tried to tell him, but he just hadn't been able to believe that Akira might have changed his mind. Or as Waya would say, had time to adjust to the idea.

He _still_ found it difficult to believe. But then he recalled the emotion in his rival's eyes, the passionate words, all the touches and recent attempts to be close to him. It filled his heart to think that he might have an opening to reach Akira through, after all.

_Finally._

But there was Kota. Hikaru sighed, gritting his teeth. He was going to have to be painfully honest now that he knew that Akira really _did_ have feelings for him. For nothing else mattered in light of that.

_More than anything in this world, Akira, I want to be with you. _

But that would mean…Kota…

Hikaru dragged his feet as he forced himself up the driveway and back into his own house. Thankfully, neither Akira nor his mother seemed to be around. Kota had to be upstairs.

He retraced Akira's earlier steps, wishing that his friend hadn't seen them, but at the same time glad that things had happened the way they had. He might never have had the opening if things had been different.

An opening in which he could claim territory and possibly even win the game. He had watched for it in just the way that he did in their games of Go. And it was just as difficult to spot and take advantage of.

Opening the door to his room, he found Kota lying on his bed in the dimming light. "Hey," he greeted his boyfriend quietly.

"Are you going to talk to him, Hikaru?" Kota asked coolly. "Because I'm convinced that he doesn't know when to stop. He'll stalk you forever if you're not firm with him."

_I want him to stalk me forever. _

"Kota…Kota." Hikaru sighed, staring down at the carpet between his bare feet. "I can't stop being friends with Akira."

Kota sat up, regarding him warily. "You know, I think there's more to this than you've ever confessed to me. I think that there are issues between yourself and Touya that you need to resolve. I thought he was going to have heart failure when I informed him of what boyfriend privileges entailed."

"You…_what?_" he gasped, stunned. Hikaru was convinced that _he_ was having heart failure. Just the thought of _Kota_ throwing something like that in Akira's face…and what it must have done to his rival…

Fierce protectiveness surged in his heart, and he had to restrain himself from throttling Kota. _You hurt him, you _**hurt** _him! _

Kota eyed him again, frowning slightly. "Does that…bother you? That I told him that?"

"Yes!" he growled, fists clenched.

"And why is that?" his boyfriend asked quietly, dark eyes slightly pained.

Hikaru looked away, rubbing his cheek anxiously. "Because it must have bothered him!" He didn't want to say 'hurt' to Kota. It would feel like betraying Akira's confidence.

"He has to face that, Hikaru. He made his choice, and it wasn't you."

He winced before he could catch it, hurt stabbing into him. "Yeah, _thanks_," he bit out. "I'm aware."

"And that actually hurts you, doesn't it?" Those dark eyes were concerned, but still trying to analyze him nonetheless.

"Of course it does! He's my—" Hikaru stopped right before the words slipped out. _My_ _world, my life._

Kota arched a brow. "'Rival'?" His boyfriend sighed, getting to his feet. "Listen, Hikaru. It's obvious that there's still too much that's unresolved in this strange relationship between you and Touya, so…until you settle things, I think we should…we should be apart." The man looked pained, but resigned to the idea.

Hikaru stared, amazed. "Really?"

Kota nodded. "I'll be around for a little while. If you find that you miss me and you've decided to treat Touya as the friend he should be, then I'll be there for you to return to."

Hikaru watched with wide eyes as Kota walked up to him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Then, without another word, the dark-eyed man was moving down the stairs.

After the house was silent around him, he leaned back against his bedroom wall, allowing himself to slide down until he was sitting on the floor.

_I feel guilty for hurting you, Kota, but I felt even guiltier when he saw us together. As if I were cheating on _**him**_, even though we're not together. I never felt I was cheating on you when Akira touched me – because I belong with him and to him, even if I didn't realize it until now. _

Despite knowing that he had tried to make things work with Kota, it still didn't make him feel any less guilty.

_But now that I'm free, I have to take the risk. Every pro knows that playing it safe won't win the match. _

He would meet Akira head on. No more running.

* * *

Akira watched as Hikaru set down his overnight bag and stretched. "So, Hikaru, what made you decide to suddenly take me up on spending the night at my apartment? You were trying to avoid me yesterday."

"Well, I left you high and dry the night of the house-warming party, so staying over is the least I can do to make it up to you." Hikaru grinned obnoxiously.

"Are you certain that you can stand to be near me?" he asked, tone acidic in order to cover the hurt that still lurked in his heart.

"I'm fine. We'll just keep the sake and camera out of your reach. Speaking of which, what did you do with those _scary_ pictures? You'd better not be posting them on the internet!"

Akira blushed. "_No_, I would _never_ do something like that. You're the one with those sorts of tendencies."

"So why don't I take some pictures of you, then? At least you'll know how it feels!"

"I don't know that I want to give you that kind of power," Akira said loftily. He sat down on the couch, gesturing for Hikaru to do the same.

"You still didn't say what it is you do with those pictures," his rival prompted slyly, settling himself on the other end.

"I keep them," he replied, slightly defensive.

"Do you like looking at me that much?" Hikaru's tone was teasing, but those green eyes were somewhat serious. The kind of serious that gave him the falling, fluttery feeling in his stomach.

"Do we _have_ to talk about this?" He was becoming too flustered to disguise it, and if this was going to remain a normal sleepover between friends, they _had_ to stop talking about these sorts of subjects.

"Let's talk about what's for dinner. I'm very hungry. Did you make anything?" Hikaru looked at him with bright, hopeful eyes.

"Why don't _you_ make something, for once, you bottomless pit!"

"But your food is better," the other boy replied with a convincing smile.

"That stops working after a while, Hikaru! I'm not _that _stupid."

_An hour later:_

Akira shot Hikaru an irritated glance as he stirred the miso soup. "You. Are. A. _Pain_."

"But I'm helping, aren't I?" Hikaru smiled winningly.

"If you can call it that," he muttered, eyes skimming over the mess his friend had made on the cutting board while preparing the tofu and scallions.

He wanted to ask Hikaru if he had listened to the phone messages, but at the same time he was afraid and _didn't_ want to know. He didn't want to hear something that would dash his hopes, even if this situation was partially his own fault for blindly pushing the other pro away.

And he was painfully aware of everything Hikaru said and did. His focus was so attuned to the bleach-banged boy that he worried for the future of the miso soup.

Should he attempt to get close to him again, or shouldn't he? It hadn't been going well, and his confidence was severely shaken after speaking to Kota.

Akira shuddered at the words that spilled into his mind again, not wanting to hear them or think about them any longer. He had cried for hours that night, making himself sick. After being sick, he had returned to bed only to cry some more.

He didn't know how to handle the idea that someone else had been Hikaru's first. All he knew was that it hurt him like nothing else ever had – a pain that felt comprised of lacerations and acid. Certainly losing the other boy would hurt much more, but regardless. It was disturbing him. And he had tutoring games to play tomorrow.

_I have to pull myself together. I _**have** _to. This is my **life** that I'm allowing to fall apart. All because of a little thing like being in love with my rival…allowing **him** to become my life. How did that happen? _

"How much stirring does it _need_?" Hikaru exclaimed in awe from beside him.

He gave a start, almost dropping the spoon into the soup in the process. "A lot," he replied tersely. As if he would ever admit his mental wandering.

_To think…all this over _**you**. _Of all people for me to fixate on, you should have been the least likely._ _I'm certain that no one else could ever comprehend it. I don't know that I do, either. _

"You seem happier than you have in a long time," he commented, moving the soup off of the burner.

"Really?" Hikaru chirped.

Akira glanced up at the tone and received a radiant smile in turn. "Definitely." He forced himself to ask, "Something special happen…?"

The bleach-banged boy glanced away. "Nothing in particular."

* * *

Akira tossed restlessly in bed, trying not to think about Hikaru sleeping out on the couch – and failing.

He had even taken out the small photo album he kept the pictures of his rival in and flipped through it before bed. The nightly ritual should have calmed him, but the more he tried to ignore Hikaru's presence, the more strongly it pressed upon him.

They'd had their miso soup and played a game of Go, but neither of them had been up to it. They'd ended up arguing over the post-game discussion, and they hardly ever did that anymore. It was a throwback to their pre-Honinbou League days.

It had been vaguely comforting, but also somewhat aggravating. He wanted to go _forward_, not backwards.

They hadn't been able to agree on anything after that except for going to bed and trying again tomorrow. So after tea and some quiet conversation about the not-too-distant future, they had begun to prepare for bed – and Hikaru had requested a shower.

Akira hadn't seen any reason to deny him, so he had agreed. Fifteen minutes later, he had realized that he hadn't even provided his friend with a towel. He had been confident that it was safe to walk into his bedroom, planning on knocking and just slipping said item to Hikaru.

Unfortunately for his sanity, the door had been wide open – and Hikaru was definitely out of the shower. He'd been confronted with an unobstructed view of the other boy's back, athletic legs – and backside.

It had seemed like hours before he could string two coherent words together, especially with the blood roaring in his ears. He'd had thoughts of just sneaking up and slipping his arms around Hikaru, trying to seduce him. The other would never be able to see him in the misted over mirror until it was too late.

But he had come back to himself and managed to stammer out his offer of a towel. To his surprise, his rival had been completely unfazed by being nude and observed by Akira, and had even requested that he _bring_ the towel over!

Akira had done so, but after receiving a warm smile in thanks, he had beat a hasty retreat to the living room, struggling to regain control of his raging desires and thoughts.

He sighed and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. He had been like this for an hour. The shower incident was looping endlessly in his brain, playing out in different, torturous ways that he would have liked much better – if it had been reality.

Surely Hikaru was sound asleep by now.

He slipped out of bed, making his way quietly to his door. Slowly, he twisted the knob and opened it just wide enough to creep out into the living room. He paused a few feet away from the couch, straining through the dark to watch Hikaru for signs of wakefulness.

When he was certain that the other boy truly was unconscious, he moved to kneel beside the couch, just staring at the peaceful face of the person that was dearest to him.

_Just for a few minutes,_ he promised himself.

Akira felt hypnotized by the rhythm of Hikaru's breathing. With agonizing slowness, he lightly laid his head on the other's chest, listening until he heard his friend's strong, steady heartbeat. He closed his eyes, soothed and lulled by the sound.

After countless moments, he lifted his head again, leaning forward to repeat the motions that he had made the last night he'd spent with Hikaru. Inhaling the scent of his hair. Breathing into his ear. Sharing the other boy's breath. An almost-kiss.

He closed his eyes, feelings swelling within him until he couldn't bear it. It was both painful and precious, heartbreaking and beautiful. It was perfect, and he wanted it to always be this way.

But as Kota had so crudely reminded him, he did not possess Hikaru or know him intimately, nor would he ever.

He moved to withdraw, only to have his wrist seized. An arm snaked around his waist, trapping him against the couch.

"What are you _doing, _Akira?" Hikaru asked, voice firm, green eyes glittering up at him in the near-darkness.

His heart felt like it was seizing with the panic that slammed into it. "I-I…"

"Yes?" Hikaru prompted, fingers tightening around his wrist.

"I was just…looking at you," he replied breathily, profoundly embarrassed. And afraid, very afraid.

"That didn't _feel_ like 'just looking'. I was awake this whole time, Akira, so don't lie to me." Hikaru paused briefly. "And you've done it before, haven't you? That night you stayed over at my house. And here I thought it had been a dream all this time."

He made a strangled noise as he tried to answer and had to clear his throat before he could reply. "I'm…sorry."

"Are you really?" Hikaru asked quietly, staring up into his eyes intently. "I listened to the messages."

He stared down at his friend, incapable of speech.

Fingers stroked lightly over his captured wrist. "If you're really serious, then kiss me," Hikaru said quietly, voice low and insistent.

Something in the other boy's tone warned him that it was not a request. This was an ultimatum, a test. There was even a hint of his rival's game face behind it, and it carried through in both the tone and the steely glint of those familiar green eyes.

Akira shivered, but bent to do as Hikaru asked.


	30. Taken

**A/N: OMG, I'm still not done, right?! This damn fic just keeps going. ::eyes cross:: Thank you for all of the reviews! Sorry for driving you all crazy! NOW. On to the relationship development!**

* * *

Hikaru was startled when Akira's lips actually touched his, tentative and uncertain. He had expected the aqua-eyed boy to stammer some more and retreat again, despite the fact that he'd been doing his best to leave an opening all evening. 

Akira's free hand came up to brush Hikaru's bangs back, his rival's eyes already closed.

The kiss drew out, becoming more involved, and his own eyelids fluttered and slid closed, unable to resist the tenderness. He tilted his head back slightly, offering his friend a better angle.

It was a relief to finally stop having to worry about Kota when they were like this.

Hikaru released Akira's wrist and slid his fingers into the back of the other boy's silky hair, making an involuntary noise of pleasure. He still didn't know the boundaries of the feelings involved, or what options were open to him, but for the moment, he didn't want to worry about that. All his senses were reeling, the heat and liquid electricity of Akira's touch lapping at his tenuous control.

He was startled when he felt slender fingers begin tracing idle patterns on his naked chest, amplifying the feelings within him. All of his attention was caught up in following the path of those fingers, trying to decipher what messages they might be sending him, wondering what the feelings and thoughts were behind them…and wondering where they might go next.

Akira drew back slightly, eyes opening halfway. "You're thinking too much," he breathed against Hikaru's lips, fingers of the other hand feathering over the burning skin of one cheek.

"_You_ should talk," he murmured back, desire winding his body even more tightly as he gazed into Akira's sultry aqua eyes. "I never would have imagined…that you could be like this."

"Like what?" His rival's voice was low and soft, yet husky, like slightly roughened silk.

Hikaru swallowed, overwhelmed by desire and emotion. "Like _this_."

Akira gazed down at him for a long moment, frowning slightly, then pushed him deeper into the cushions of the couch, kissing him again. The second kiss was not at all tentative, but reminded him of the last time he'd been in this sort of position with his friend. The other boy's fingers had wandered even lower, and were perilously close to infiltrating what clothing he had on – namely, his insubstantial gym shorts.

"Nnn…'Kira," he gasped when the other drew back, feeling winded. His head was spinning from being so close and intimate with the one he…_the one he_…

"_Mine_," Akira said, tone steely. Aqua eyes caged him, possessive and intense.

"Well…actually—" he began, meaning to reveal that he and Kota had broken up.

"No!" Akira exclaimed passionately, leaning down to kiss him forcefully.

Whatever his friend had thought he was going to say, it seemed he wouldn't be allowed to say it. His rival's fingers slipped into his clothing in a rush, touching him with a confidence he never would have expected.

Hikaru bucked against the sudden intimacy, making inarticulate sounds into Akira's mouth. If he'd had any thoughts, they had fractured and dissipated under that touch.

Akira drew back again, aqua eyes hooded and rather pleased. "So these…are all you're wearing."

"Ah…" was his witty rejoinder.

"You don't need to think about anything…but me. _Me._ _I'm_ here, Hikaru, just me. I am _all_ that you should be…thinking of." Akira's tone was strong and had an edge to it.

"I'm yours, am I?" he whispered playfully.

"_Yes_," Akira replied, completely serious.

Suddenly, his rival's hand moved against his burning flesh, fingers teasing him with fleeting, feathery strokes. It made him want to cry. This felt just like their time at the beach.

He tried to sneak a hand under the other boy's nightshirt, but was stopped quite firmly by Akira's hand taking his and bearing it back to rest against the cushions.

"No, not yet," Akira whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. Those fingers were still teasing him.

He writhed against the couch a little, trying to escape their touch. "If…if you keep going…" he tried to explain against his friend's warm lips.

Aqua eyes blazed at him suddenly. "That's what I want. I want to hear you make those noises…for _me._" Akira suddenly reached out, dragging Hikaru's gym shorts down to his knees.

Before he could respond or protest, he was made mindless again by the intensified efforts of the other pro. He attempted to retain some control, to at least keep from lifting his hips quite so eagerly, but he couldn't. It all trickled through his fingers when they were like this.

He had become a writhing, mindless mess of emotion and hunger, moaning and gasping for Akira's touch.

"_More,_" Akira whispered into his ear, fingers brushing over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.

"Nnn…._nn_…_Kir_…a…" he gasped brokenly, body shivering.

"Do you know…that I've touched myself so many times…just thinking about you being like this with me?"

He opened his eyes at that, staring up into the molten aqua gaze of his rival.

"Yes," Akira whispered, fingertips skating over the naked skin of one hip. "I'm shameless for you…only you."

Hikaru hissed softly as tendrils of the fire building in his body raced after his rival's fingertips unerringly. It didn't fade from where he'd been touched before, but only burned steadily, adding to the general heat.

And the thought that Akira had done things like that over thoughts of him…was almost unbearable, pushing him closer to the brink of insanity…or pleasure. He couldn't tell which. He had never felt like this with anyone but Akira, and this was the farthest they'd ever gone. What would it feel like if they…?

"You're _thinking_ again," Akira purred into his ear, leaning in to bite the nearby curve of his neck.

"Ah!" He squirmed helplessly, trying to cut the intensity, but the other boy's kisses continued down his throat and over one collarbone, driving him mad. On top of that, Akira's fingers kept flirting from one hip to the other, leaving only to brush lightly over the insides of his thighs before repeating the motions. Occasionally he felt them graze over his stomach.

How had Akira become so adept at tormenting him? Or did it just come naturally?

"Akira…please, _please_. If I can't touch _you_…" His breath was sobbing out pitifully, making him sound like a total girl. Embarrassment blazed across his cheeks.

Akira seemed charmed by it, smiling sweetly down on him. "You won't run away?" the aqua-eyed boy murmured gently.

Was Akira _crazy_? There was no way he'd be able to go anywhere like this. "_Mm_."

The other boy leaned in to kiss him again, expression very solemn and focused. It was a deep kiss, a perfect seal between the two of them. But it would be even more perfect if…

The thought of making love to Akira and kissing him like this sent Hikaru's mind and body into a complete meltdown. He reached out, capturing his rival's teasing hand, and brought it back to where he needed to be touched.

Akira complied, fingers wrapping around him tightly and stroking him with agonizing, sensual slowness.

Hikaru's entire body tensed and began shuddering as he clenched his jaw against the wave of pleasure about to crush him. _Oh god…those hands…those fingers… _Then it was upon him, and he was crying out over and over and clutching Akira to him blindly.

His feelings for the other boy wrapped around him and dragged him down forcefully, his fragmented thoughts whirling in frantic circles like water going down a drain. He was vaguely aware that Akira's tongue still caressed his, even though he was incapable of kissing back at the moment.

Do…love you…**do**…going to die…from this! 

He drifted in a haze for a short time, aftershocks making it difficult to breathe steadily. So he didn't worry about anything other than breathing for a little while. He was content to be thoughtless and senseless in the warmth that cradled him, Akira's scent surrounding him.

When he came back to himself, the first thing he was aware of were fingers gently stroking his cheek, straying away to periodically brush through the hair at his temple. He was also aware that Akira's other hand was still in intimate contact with his body, although it wasn't moving anymore.

Hikaru opened his eyes slowly. His rival was gazing down upon him, expression tender and beatific.

"What are you thinking?" he whispered.

The other boy blinked, surprised out of whatever reverie he'd been lost in. "Just…that this is perfect."

"See? I knew…it would be." He smiled sleepily, mind still hazy. His body felt balanced and relaxed, as if he'd spent a weekend at the hot springs.

"So why did you run away, then?" Akira asked, tone slightly guarded. The light had faded from his features.

Hikaru winced. He could see this rapidly devolving into an argument if it continued. He just _knew_ it would. "Can we talk about it tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.

Akira relaxed, expression becoming warm again. "Of course. I apologize. Let's prepare for bed."

"Are you sure you won't let me touch you?" he asked forlornly, raising pleading eyes to his friend.

"I'm not quite ready for that," Akira admitted shyly, glancing away as he rose to his feet.

Hikaru wanted to snort or burst out laughing, but he stifled the urge. Not ready?? _He_ had just been pushed down into the couch and had, and the other boy said that he 'wasn't ready'? He strongly suspected that Akira would be 'ready' as early as tomorrow. It was the emotion that gave his friend pause, he was sure.

"Are you coming?" the aqua-eyed boy asked.

"Where?"

"To clean up, and then to bed," Akira elucidated, expression exasperated.

"I…I _can_? I can sleep with you?" Hikaru stared up at his friend, shocked and overjoyed.

His rival put his hands on his hips, sighing, and held out his clean hand. "Of _course_."

He dragged his gym shorts the rest of the way off and took Akira's hand, getting up to follow him.

* * *

Akira smiled in the dark as he lay beside Hikaru, gaze locked on the other boy's shadowed face. He had a tutoring session tomorrow morning and should probably already be asleep, but he felt full and restless, wide awake. 

He and Hikaru were facing each other, but his friend had already drifted off to sleep. Their hands lay between them on top of the thin sheet, clasped tightly together. He felt complete like this.

He didn't have to keep the feelings to himself anymore. But how to tell Hikaru…? Especially with all that had yet to be discussed. His smile faded as he contemplated the complications. He wasn't looking forward to those things that they needed to talk about.

Like where Hikaru and Kota stood after this night, what had passed between them, what Hikaru's feelings were…and where Akira himself stood with his rival. He wouldn't settle for anything less than being Hikaru's one and only. This was serious, and very important to him. He would never risk his career for anyone or anything else, after all.

Akira had his own personal issue to deal with, as well. He was not content to leave things the way they were between his family and himself. Even though his mother still called periodically to talk to him, he hadn't heard anything from his father, nor had he seen him except for the single instance at the Go Institute.

His mind turned back to Hikaru breathing softly beside him. He knew that any deeper intimacy with his friend couldn't be pursued with blind instinct alone as his guide. He was determined to learn how to make love to the other boy properly, and for that…he would have to talk to Isumi. As much as going to someone for such a private thing galled him, he didn't want to search for information indiscriminately. He would much rather hear it from someone trustworthy, however embarrassing.

He couldn't tolerate the thought that Hikaru might see Kota tomorrow, or be intimate with the man again. Or might slip out before he woke in the morning. What if the other boy regretted it?

_You can't! I **touched** you, Hikaru – that makes you mine. Kota may have touched you, too, but **we're** special. What's between us is different, pure. This is how it's supposed to be. _

_I will purify your body in time. I will erase him from you utterly, that mistake. _

Akira squeezed Hikaru's hand, frightened that the other boy would be swept away from him in a few hours at dawn, when they woke up. He was afraid that everything would change.

If he had ever hated anyone, he would have to say that it was Kota. Just the thought of the man near his rival was enough to make his blood boil. He had often wished that Kota would simply _die_. It was a horrible thing to wish upon someone, but he couldn't seem to restrain himself.

Kota was between Akira and his goal, simply in his way, and he had a tendency to be cold and calculating about reaching his goals. He was logical – sometimes too logical, if what other people said had any merit. Hikaru was a goal with which his emotions were deeply involved in attaining, making it especially hazardous for anyone blocking him.

If something didn't happen to remove Kota soon, he would have to find a way to pry the two of them apart. He knew that it would be a dishonorable and callous thing to do and that it would hurt Hikaru, but he couldn't resist being selfish in this. Hikaru was his – had _always_ been his. It was too late for altered paths or changes in the plan. They had been orbiting each other for nearly 6 years. There was no use struggling against it, even though both he and Hikaru had tried out of fear and confusion.

Once he would have said without hesitation that his first priority in life was Go, and reaching the hand of god. Go was still his major focus in life, but Hikaru _was_ his life. The bleach-banged fashion accident lying next to him was now his absolute priority, even above Go and the hand of god. He would give them up to assure that this person would always be with him. He would walk away from Go if given the choice between that and Hikaru's love.

It filled him with a shivering terror that another human being had become _that_ important to him. He knew how fallible and unpredictable people were, whereas Go was anything but. He might never truly know who Hikaru was, and could certainly never learn and account for every corner and aspect of the other boy's mind and soul.

He could never map his rival out like a Go-ban, nor could he memorize Hikaru's bright and divine pattern like that of a completed game. For the moves of a completed game were immutable, whereas his friend's heart and soul were not.

"I should never have looked up from the Go-ban," he whispered, eyes tracing the lines of Hikaru's features over and over. But it was much too late for that. It had probably been too late the first time he'd gazed upon that beaming face and radiant smile.

Yet he couldn't truly regret the events that had brought him so close to this person, no matter how things went tomorrow or in the future. Hikaru was his answer, the response to his every move, his other half.

It could never have been anyone else. He knew that.

Hikaru was perfect for him.

* * *

Hikaru glanced anxiously at the clock hanging in Akira's kitchen as he heated up some miso soup on the stovetop. It was 8:32 A.M., and the other pro had left at 6 A.M. for an appointment with someone and still wasn't back yet. 

He knew that two and half hours was a rather brief period of time to have elapsed when it came to playing Go, amateur or not, but he was impatient and knew that they had things to talk about. Knowing the other boy, they'd be going over every little mistake and opening left ignored.

He was also worried about what might be going on in Akira's head. He hadn't even seen his rival this morning, but he did have a sleep-hazed recollection of a familiar scent rousing him and what had felt like the brush of lips over his temple.

Hikaru smiled. Could Akira really be capable of being that sweet? He could hardly believe it.

He rescued his soup hurriedly. He'd ignored it for too long and its contents seemed to be liquefying. "Dammit." Whenever he thought of that difficult, prickly person, his thoughts fell apart and he stared vacantly off into space.

Speaking of prickly people…

Hikaru left his soup on the counter and went to dig through his overnight bag where it sat beside the couch. His questing fingers found what they were looking for, and he pulled his cell phone out, checking for messages.

He smirked when he saw that Waya had called yesterday, but his amusement faded as soon as he saw the other call had been Kota. Dutifully, he went into his voice mail menu and chose to listen to his messages. Waya's was first.

_"Hey, bitch, where are you?! As much as it's great to be around Shinich – I mean, Isumi – all the time, I miss your obnoxiousness. I need a balanced diet, ya know, between sweet and sour. So call me back so I can slap you around some, eh?"_ There was a moment's pause before Waya continued. _"Oh! And Ochi is talking smack about you. He says you're going down as soon as matches start up again. He's gunning for you. I really think he still carries a torch for Touya – though god knows why – so watch it!" _

Hikaru was laughing by the time the message was over, and had to save it. He always had trouble making himself delete Waya's messages. They amused him too much to be casually discarded.

He quickly sobered as Kota's message queued up.

_"Yes, it's me. I figured you wouldn't answer. I **miss** you."_ Kota sounded positively depressed._ "Are you certain that Touya is the one you want, Hikaru? **I** know what I want. I won't disappoint you. If you'd like a date, with or without ties, give me a call." _

Hikaru made a face, but the message was still going.

_"…and I can't forget you. I think about you all the time. I love you." _Kota's voice suddenly became low and intense. _"I'll wait for you." _

He groaned in frustration, deleting the message. "I should have known that easy release the other day was too good to be true," he muttered at his phone.

Kota's attitude had always been casual and relaxed, but there was something about the man's dark eyes, his stillness. Sometimes there had been that edge, a flash of intensity that suggested that the other was more than he seemed on the surface. It had been difficult to catch, but was more evident when they were being intimate, as if the man only had so much control around Hikaru.

The door suddenly opened and closed, startling him. He glanced up, catching Akira's faint smile. "I'm home."

"Welcome back," he murmured, smiling back.

"Did someone call?" Akira asked, expression becoming slightly guarded.

"A-ah. Waya…and Kota." For some reason, he felt compelled to pretend that Kota hadn't called, but he wanted to be honest with his friend. Always.

Those aqua eyes narrowed, gleaming like the edge of a blade. "Hm. Going on a _date_, are you? Then you'd better tell him what happened last night, or _I_ will."

"Akira!" he exclaimed, shocked. But the other pro wasn't done.

"It's the _least_ I could do, since he has been so forthright with _me_. Does he want to put his hands all over you, as usual?" Akira's tone was scathing, laced with a stinging anger, but his eyes were strangely bright.

Hikaru flinched, closing his eyes. He recalled quite clearly that Kota had deemed it necessary to share those details with Akira. "I always thought of you, Akira," he confessed softly. "Only you."

"Ha!" Akira exploded bitterly. "How easy to say that _now_, but I saw you lying there on that bed beneath him, remember? I can't imagine that you'd do that unless you truly _wanted_ what he gives you, wanted _him_."

He opened his eyes and rose from his crouch beside his bag, turning to fully face the other boy. "Is that why you wouldn't let me touch you last night? Because _he_ has touched me?" Hikaru felt his heart constrict. He had never seen quite this side of Akira before.

Akira lifted his chin, looking down his nose at Hikaru. "Oh, he's done _more_ than just 'touch' you, Hikaru. He made that painfully clear."

There it was. The 'challenging' look that drove him crazy. "Does that disturb you?" he asked softly, hands curling helplessly at his sides.

"Of _course_ it disturbs me!" the aqua-eyed boy snarled, clenching a fist against his chest as he took a step towards Hikaru.

"But why?" he asked quietly, remaining calm in the face of the other's outburst. "You ran away from me. Remember?"

"And _you_ ran away from _me_! Do you want the truth? All right, I'll enlighten you! I was _frightened_, Hikaru. I still am! I _despise_ being vulnerable, whether it be in Go or in life." Akira gestured with both hands as he spoke, obviously agitated.

_Wow. This must really bother him. He's completely worked up. _

"I ran away from you because I didn't want to be one more game to you, Akira. I care about you, and I couldn't stand being an experiment for you."

"You _idiot!" _Akira exclaimed forcefully. "I care about you, too! Why else would I risk myself?"

"Hey!" he scolded mildly. "Stop calling me names. If you're so terrified of vulnerability, why let last night happen?"

The other pro put a hand over his mouth, looking strained as he stared down at the floor. "Because I can't help it. I want to be close to you."

"I want to be close to you, too," he replied gently, smiling.

Aqua eyes flashed up to slash at him with their razor edge from beneath dark lashes. "Oh? Is that why you're sleeping with Kota?"

Despite the fact that such a look was incredibly intimidating, he couldn't help but think that Akira looked horribly sexy. "Actually, I'm not sleeping with Kota anymore," he answered stiffly.

"Taking a break?" Akira's eyes still glared in challenge.

"Would you _stop_ it? What part of this don't you understand?" Hikaru found his frustration snapping out between them despite himself. "Here, I'll lay it out plainly. I took a boyfriend when you rejected me. I _fantasized_ about you when Kota and I were being intimate. I've already told you that I _care_ about you – no, that you're _the_ most precious person to me. You and I were somewhat intimate last night. Now I've just told you that I'm not sleeping with Kota anymore." He paused, waiting for Akira's reaction.

The other boy frowned at him. "Don't be condescending to _me_, Hikaru. I won't tolerate that."

"Why not? _You're_ always being condescending to _me_, acting as if I'm two wits shy of being completely brain-dead. But that's not the point."

"No, it's _not_," Akira cut in, squaring his slender shoulders as he glared directly into Hikaru's eyes. "Where do we stand? I'm not going to stand on the sidelines while Kota remains your boyfriend. That is unacceptable."

"You're right, it is. Which is what I have been _trying_ to tell you. I broke up with Kota a couple of days ago."

"You—what?" Akira blinked repeatedly, looking as if someone had suddenly removed a wall he'd been pushing against with all his might.

"Akira," he said softly, patiently. "You're the only one I've ever wanted. I've only been waiting for you this entire time. Naturally I would respond when you finally said what I'd been waiting to hear – that you were actually _serious_."

Akira looked away, blushing. "So…you're actually _mine_ now?" The other boy turned his head back to stare intensely into Hikaru's eyes. "_Mine?" _

Wow, such weight. "Um, yeah. Always have been. You just didn't get it."

"Small wonder when you were sleeping with someone _else_."

He had a feeling that his rival was not going to forget or forgive that any time soon. "Is that going to be a problem? Are you not interested in being closer to me because of that?"

Akira's hands clenched around his own forearms, and the other boy stared at the wall with a tortured look. "_I_ wanted to be your first."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, only just realizing what it was that he had taken away from his beloved friend.

The aqua-eyed boy cleared his throat, returning a suddenly calm gaze to Hikaru. "Are you going to call Waya back, then?"

"Probably. I was thinking I'd like to hang out with him, but I'd like to take a shower first, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead," Akira replied.

"Hmm." Hikaru smiled slightly and closed the distance between them, leaning in to kiss the other boy's lips lightly.

Akira leaned back a little, seeming surprised by the gesture, but allowed the kiss to connect, intense eyes fluttering closed.

"Be good while I'm gone," he teased against the other pro's lips.

Akira opened his eyes in order to roll them at Hikaru. "Yes, I'm positively dangerous and bear watching. If I were any more boring… Just go take your shower."

"You're _far_ from boring," he breathed, eyes half closed as he stared at the beautiful face before him. He watched the blush rise in those pale cheeks, charmed.

"Just go!" Akira burst out, obviously flustered by the close attention.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going."

* * *

Akira breathed a sigh of relief as Hikaru disappeared into the bedroom and tried to tell his body to calm itself. He had to use this time wisely. 

He went into the other boy's bag, finding his cell phone, and found Isumi's number in the contacts list. As he listened to it ringing through, he hoped fervently that the dark-haired pro was alone.

"Hello, Hikaru," Isumi answered, voice warm.

"It's Touya," he corrected guiltily.

"Touya! Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes, but there's something I need to discuss with you. I hate to have to ask you, but I don't have anywhere else to turn. I only have a few minutes, because Hikaru only takes fifteen minute showers."

There was a brief silence from Isumi. "Ahh…well, what is it that requires such privacy, then?"

"Waya's not there with you, right?"

"Are you kidding?" Isumi replied, sounding thoroughly amused. "That lump doesn't move before 10 A.M. He's here, but not conscious."

"I…I need to ask you something of a very personal nature. Please forgive my rudeness and inconsiderate prying. Hikaru…Hikaru and I…I want to…I need to know…" He was getting choked up just trying to explain.

Isumi laughed. "I'm sorry, Touya, I'm not laughing _at_ you. Don't tell me that you're trying to ask me how to be intimate with Hikaru? _You're_ going to be seme?"

Akira felt the blush that he was struggling with rage over his face, unchecked like wildfire. He felt _so_ humiliated. But he was committed to doing this. "Maybe? I just…I need to know…_how_."

"But I thought he was with Kota?" Isumi's tone was neutral enough, but Akira knew the older boy wouldn't approve of anything involving cheating.

"Not anymore."

"What happened?" Isumi asked, sounding concerned.

"Can we _please_ talk about this _later_?" he asked urgently, glancing over his shoulder at the bedroom. The sound of the shower was still present, so he had at least another couple of minutes to get this over with.

"Very well. Whoever is going to be the uke has to be relaxed, all right? And you definitely need to use lubrication, which you can typically get at the drugstore. That person will need to be, er…"

"What?" he pressed, even more embarrassed than he thought possible.

"Stretched," Isumi returned tersely, sounding embarrassed himself.

Akira stared blankly at the arm of the couch in front of him, trying to get his mind around that.

Isumi continued in a low, confidential voice. "Work up to at least two fingers, though I'd suggest three. And for god's sake, go slowly. It's going to hurt either way, but a lot more if it isn't done properly."

"It hurts?" he whispered, appalled.

"Well, yes. At least the first time. Each time after will be easier, more comfortable. His -- or whomever's -- body has to get used to it."

Akira covered his face with his free hand, utterly embarrassed. If much more blood rose in his face, he'd never get this blush to recede, and then he would have to answer awkward questions from Hikaru.

And he was quite certain that _he_ would end up being the uke, sooner or later. All of this applied to him, too! He was determined _not_ to be uke. **Ever.** The vulnerability of it alone perturbed him.

"Touya?" Isumi prompted.

"Yes! Yes…it sounds difficult."

"It's not, really. And it's well worth it."

Hearing the satisfaction in Isumi's voice, he was _certain_ that the older boy had been 'familiar' with Waya enough to be confident. He wished _he_ could feel confident about seducing Hikaru.

"Thank you, Isumi. I apologize again for being so rude."

"That's fine, Touya. Where else could you go for that kind of information? I know how it is. I'm just glad that you two have finally come to this point. Hikaru…Hikaru cares about you so much." Isumi's tone was fond and kind.

Akira smiled. "Mm." The sound of the shower turning off jolted him to alertness. "I have to go, he's about to come out. He'll probably call Waya now. Please don't tell Waya about this, because I'm afraid he would only share it, and—"

"--and you want to _surprise_ him," Isumi finished, a smirk in his voice. "I had no idea, Touya!"

"I have to go!" he repeated. "Thank you!" He hung up quickly, dropping the phone back in the mess of Hikaru's bag and hoping the other wouldn't look at his 'dialed calls' menu for some time.

He went into the kitchen, thinking of preparing something, and saw the bowl of soup sitting on the counter and the pot on the stove. Holding a hand over the bowl, he felt no heat rising from it and realized that Hikaru must have been about to eat right before he had come in. _So_ easily distracted.

Akira sighed and turned the stove back on to reheat the miso, pouring the bowl's contents back into the pot. He would have it ready when the other boy had finished dressing.

"Fool," he murmured affectionately.

Now the only thing for him to worry about was how to secure what he so desperately wanted from Hikaru. _Complete surrender._

* * *

**A/N #2 - Responses to reviews!! **

**darkmaster – ::innocent look:: You don't want me to have more surprises? But of course you do! Thank you for being so excited about it! I usually update on the weekends, and no more than once a week. **

**Kame – Yes, so many shower scenes! ;D No, the story is somehow not finished! I thought it would stop at 30 chapters, but it looks like it's going to be a few more. O.o Somehow. Just a few. Mostly to wrap up loose ends and give Akira and Hikaru a chance to iron a few things out – oh yes, and to enjoy their new relationship. :D I'm concerned that the outraged fans are going to attack me over other things – namely keeping Hikaru and Akira apart for so long, or being inaccurate about life in Japan! But at least I have fans, for which I am very grateful. Thank you for counting yourself as one of them! **

**joyce – Thank you so much! I'm so very glad that you're enjoying it:D **

**Sherry – Thank you. :P **

**Astrido – No _way_ would I make it go on forever! . That would torture me, too. Oh yes, they'll have plenty of arguments and battles to come. ;) **

**The rest of you have accounts on here, so I'll be replying privately, as always. **


	31. Falling Into Place

**A/N: Ahhh, so sorry! I have difficulty writing the endings of things (I hate it when anything I enjoy is over), and so it takes me longer and longer to put out chapters the closer I get to the end of this! But it's probably going to be another 2-3 chapters after this. (I don't know if I'll survive! But I'll keep trying to write, even if I _die_! O.o ) I love you guys! Don't hate me for the delay! See the end of this chapter for other notes and replies to reviews, as u-su-al!**

* * *

"Hmm," Waya replied uncertainly, tracing the designs on his cup with a frown. 

"Waya, that's the truth," Hikaru insisted, leaning forward from where he sat on the bed.

Waya glanced into his friend's earnest green eyes and decided that he believed him. "So you actually broke up with Kota. And you're not going to go back to him? Ever?"

Isumi was sitting beside him on Hikaru's bedroom floor, attentively following the conversation as he nursed a cup of hot tea.

"Do we have to talk about this?" Hikaru muttered, staring sullenly at the floor.

"Hikaru, we're your _friends_," Waya stressed, frowning more deeply. "So are you with Touya now?"

The bleach-banged boy blushed, glancing quickly at Waya and then away at the Gackt poster. "Not officially…yet? I don't know."

"So you can't have had sex, then," he stated matter-of-factly, earning a smack from Isumi and a scandalized squawk from Hikaru.

"Waya!" the exclaimed in unison.

"Whaaat? _Geez._ Isn't that the truth? But you must have done something?"

Hikaru glared at him, face bright red. "_Something._ But I am _not_ going to share that with you!"

"There, easy, you're together," Waya said with a grin.

"Oh?" Isumi broke in calmly. "Is _that_ how it works, then?"

He glanced at his lover, not missing the warning in those deceptively stoic eyes. "Ah…okay, maybe not _that_ simple," he amended, ducking his head.

"I was deceiving myself all along, thinking that I could forget about Akira," Hikaru mused quietly, eyes inward-focused.

"But now you have Kota to deal with," Isumi prompted. "Is that going to be an issue?"

The green-eyed boy shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't expect him to be persistent. I guess I don't really know him at all."

The dark-haired pro glanced up at the ceiling briefly and sighed. "Three weeks is a _very_ short time, Hikaru. Think of how long you've known Touya and how much of who _he_ is remains a mystery to you."

"I'm _trying_."

Waya made a face, tuning out briefly to listen to his own thoughts as Isumi and Hikaru talked. He was grateful that things were much simpler between he and Isumi. If his lover had been like Touya, he would have gone crazy long before they ever got together. He wasn't sure how Hikaru handled it.

He leaned back on his hands, studying the animated face of his second closest friend. He had always thought that the bleach-banged boy was silly, ditzy and maybe a bit shallow, but the last several months had made him revise that opinion. It seemed that he hadn't really known _Hikaru_ as well as he'd thought. He had only assumed that he knew all of who this person was.

But Hikaru had moody times. Dark times. Broken times. He realized now that the image he'd had in his mind of his friend had been two-dimensional at best. Perhaps Touya had seen more of the real Hikaru than anyone else had. Somehow the thought disturbed him. He felt that _he_ should be the one to know his friend best.

But then, he hadn't spent hundreds of hours staring intensely into those green eyes, either, or pushing the other boy to the edge. Touya _had._ His entire existence had never revolved around Hikaru. Touya's _did._ Waya grudgingly admitted to himself that maybe it wasn't so surprising that the annoying little Go prodigy really _did_ know Hikaru best.

Waya watched as Hikaru tossed his bleached bangs out of his eyes before continuing his discussion with Isumi. His friend was fascinating in a way he'd never been before.

_Are you really so complicated, Hikaru? I never guessed. I never knew. I never would have imagined that you had the kind of depth that appealed to someone like Touya Akira._

He was pleased to have discovered his friend all over again.

Isumi was interesting and complex, too. So what made someone like Shinichirou love someone like him? He was relatively straightforward, a simple and uncomplicated person. Wasn't he? Or did he not even know himself?

He brushed his fingers over Isumi's briefly before returning his attention to the conversation, smiling into the surprised blue eyes that turned to him. "So where's Touya, anyway?" Waya asked Hikaru.

"He…felt the need to confront his father today. I don't think it will turn out well, but he says that he can't leave it alone." Hikaru looked uncomfortable and concerned.

"Well, _yeah_. Even if you were a girl, you don't meet his standards."

"Thanks, Waya," the bleach-banged boy replied sarcastically.

"Well, it's true. Nothing personal."

Hikaru made a disgruntled noise before his expression brightened marginally. "You guys want to go out for a late lunch and maybe stop by a Go salon?"

Waya glanced over to check with Isumi, then nodded. "Sure."

* * *

Akira bowed lower than usual to his father, finding his resolve slightly shaky under that iron stare. "Father. Are you well?" 

"I have certainly been _better_. Are you here to mend this family, or have you come only to argue?"

He struggled to suppress all emotion and reaction from influencing his blankly polite expression. "I am here to talk to my father."

His mother entered, setting down a tray of tea for them before she retreated swiftly and silently. It was always a bad sign when his mother refused to be in the room during one of their 'discussions'.

Perhaps the tea would be able to calm the headache that had been tormenting him for the last half an hour. He was certain that it had been brought on by stress.

"I have been working on your behalf, Akira, hoping that you would come to your senses and stop this nonsense before the point of no return is reached. Before you completely cast aside any pride and grace left to you, left to this family." His father sat down behind the Go-ban, gesturing for Akira to do the same.

Reluctantly, he complied. He wasn't in the mood to play his father. But he was here to make peace, so he couldn't very well refuse.

He was stung by his father's words, to say the least. "What do you mean, father?" he asked woodenly as they began.

"I have found another young lady that would be willing to marry into the Touya family. She has heard all about you, seen your photo and knows your accomplishments and strengths. I spoke to her family, of course, and all parties find the arrangement agreeable. All I need is your consent. Naturally I did not reveal any of our private business to her."

Akira tried desperately to bend his attention upon the game, but it was proving difficult. His emotions were running high, and he was finding it more and more challenging to suppress them, especially since he had become closer to Hikaru. The other boy had always encouraged him to express his emotions, to feel them fully. Would it only be a handicap to him?

"Father…I…I know you don't want to hear this, but I _love_ Hikaru. I cannot imagine a life without him. A life without him is a life without value. I could never betray him."

He glanced up to find his father's eyes on him, stern and unforgiving.

"Akira, you're confused right now. You have spent your formative years in too close a rivalry with this boy, and it has become something more. Had I known, I would have acted to sunder the two of you long before now. You say to me that you could never betray him. But do your mother and I mean so little to you that you have no qualms about your betrayal of us?"

"Father!" he gasped, pained. "I have not betrayed you or mother."

"Your feelings for Hikaru are not healthy, son. Break it off now, before it's too late. I don't want to see your life destroyed like this."

He returned his gaze to the board, staring it down fiercely as he made his move. He could barely concentrate, wanting only to clench his fists, raise his voice or show some sign of how he was feeling. But he couldn't.

The Meijin sighed. "Look at this, Akira. We've barely begun this game, and already you've allowed me to cut you here." His father's strong fingers pointed out a glaring mistake in one of the lower quadrants. "You never used to play with such weakness. It reflects the state of your mind, does it not?"

Akira took a deep breath, fighting to remain calm. "Sir…with all due respect, I cannot play to the best of my ability right now. I'm upset."

"If you're upset, it is only because you know that I'm right about this and you're ashamed. Don't be stubborn, Akira. Correct your mistake now. You can even move back in if you agree, son. Your mother and I have missed you." Though his father's tone was kind, there was steel lying just beneath the surface.

Akira passed a hand over his face, trying to dissuade the headache from getting worse. It ignored his gesture, intensifying by stabs and throbs.

His father took his silence for encouragement to go on. "You haven't defiled yourself with him, have you? Please tell me you haven't, Akira."

He made a small sound of pain as the headache stabbed violently in response to his surge of anger. "Closeness with Hikaru could only uplift me, father, never defile me." Though he spoke quietly, his words were audible.

"How can you _think_ that!" his father growled.

Akira forced himself to look up and meet those angry eyes, doing his best to ignore his headache and the nausea it was beginning to cause. "Because it's true. Because he has made me a better person, and brought so much to my life. I love him more than anything, father, even more than Go."

Touya Kouyo was absolutely silent at that, staring at Akira as if he'd lost his mind. "I'm bringing your mother in to speak with you. I'm done." With that, his father rose and walked past him and out of the room.

He hung his head and reached for the tea, pouring it out into the nearest cup and taking a bracing couple of sips before his mother arrived.

She entered quietly and sat down in the space his father had just vacated. "Your father tells me that you can't be reasoned with," she murmured, soft, dark eyes meeting his briefly before descending to study the Go-ban.

Akira sighed heavily, holding his cup close to his chest. "He's the one that can't be reasoned with."

"Tell me. Tell me why you find the thought of marrying a nice girl unbearable, Akira." Her tone was gentle, yet admonishing.

"Because I don't love a nice girl, mother - I love _Hikaru_." He tried to keep the exasperation out of his tone, but some of his feeling crept in, anyway.

"Just as I thought. Why didn't you tell me when I asked you on the phone before?"

He looked up at her sad face, then looked away. "I hadn't admitted it to myself yet. Besides, I was afraid. But fighting it has only hurt Hikaru and I. He tried dating a couple of people when I didn't accept him right off – and I couldn't stand it mother, I couldn't _bear_ it."

"And now?" she pressed.

"He broke up with his boyfriend, and we've both admitted that we care about each other. I think we might be able to have a true relationship, finally." He smiled involuntarily, feeling all over again the relief and joy that the path to Hikaru was, at long last, _clear_.

There was also the fleeting thought of his plans for _tonight_…

"He makes you happy," his mother observed, smiling faintly.

"Yes. I didn't know or feel anything before meeting Hikaru." Akira laughed a little as he thought of the other boy, eyes moving over the patterns on the Go-ban without seeing them. "Mother…mother, he's silly and irreverent, and he's too impulsive, but I honestly think that you'd like him if you gave him a chance. I'd like for you to get to know him…someday."

"Is he committed to you? Does he love you back?"

He thought back to Hikaru's tears and intense emotions. "I'm fairly certain. He broke up with his boyfriend as soon as I told him that I was serious about him."

"Why do boys always complicate things unnecessarily?" his mother asked, watching him with an amused expression.

"Mother! That's not true. It's just that…Hikaru and I have always been very competitive and sensitive to each other. I think we knew a long time ago, but we always have to argue and struggle over things before we can work them out and let them be."

"I'll try to bring your father around, but I can't guarantee anything. You understand, don't you?"

Akira's eyes widened in surprise and he slowly turning his head to stare at his mother. "You…you would do that for me?"

"Of course. You're my son, and I love you. If this is how you are, then I have to accept it. But I can't assure you of anything when it comes to your father. You're both so stubborn."

"Thank you, mother. I love you, too." He rose, and she rose with him.

"I'll walk you out." She embraced him briefly before turning away.

He followed her out of the room, repressing a sigh. It hadn't gone exactly the way he'd wanted, but it had gone much better than he'd _expected._ Besides, there was always the fact that Hikaru would be with him in a few hours…

Akira tipped his head down, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. He would begin planning the details as soon as he returned to his apartment.

* * *

Hikaru hummed softly to himself as he clicked away with the mouse, the melody dropping out every time he found something particularly interesting. He didn't have a machine of his own, so he had begun playing with Akira's while the other boy was in the shower. 

He had managed to find a Go site that had every article ever written about Akira. In fact, it was something of a _shrine_ to his rival, and it irritated him to read the words of some stranger that thought they knew what Akira was about.

Arms slipped around him from behind, startling him, and he realized belatedly that the light in the room had dimmed significantly.

"Are you going to be much longer?" Akira breathed into his ear.

Hikaru shivered, tilting his head down. The other boy's breath fanned against his neck, sending goosebumps down the right side of his body. "W-why?" he asked faintly.

"Because I'd like your full attention," his friend replied in a low, insistent voice, hands lightly stroking over his clothed chest.

It reminded him strongly of last night. He turned his head slightly, eyes skimming up Akira's long, pale arm. Strange, the other boy always seemed to wear long…sleeves…

He noticed the candles, then, as well as the fact that his rival's torso was bare. Surely the other wouldn't—

Lips caressing the back of his neck shut down his wandering thoughts and he closed his eyes tightly, feeling desire and arousal snaking down his spine to embrace his body like Akira's arms. A hot tongue stroked lightly over the skin at the nape of his neck, and he made an involuntary noise.

"So you _do_ like me," Akira said in a teasing voice. "I was beginning to wonder."

"Stop being so sexy," he muttered, abandoning the mouse to lay one hand over the other boy's. He could feel the other's body heat beating at his defenses and warming his back.

"But I _want_ to be sexy," his rival whispered, hand slipping lower.

"Hey, _hey_, where are you going with that!" he cried, capturing the dangerous hand in one of his own. He turned slightly in the chair and leaned back to look up at Akira.

"Where do you think?" The aqua-eyed boy gave him a strange, sly smile before leaning down to breathe across his lips.

Hikaru was prepared with another question, but the other pro's tongue slipped in the moment he began to open his mouth, caressing his own boldly. He closed his eyes, his last sight being Akira, looking intense and beautifully serious.

_Those collarbones…_he thought vaguely as fire moved through him from the kiss. He was amazed at how beautiful and delicate the other looked. The lines of that gracefully sculpted frame…what did the rest of that body look like?

Akira's hands rose to cup his jaw before stroking his throat with light, possessive fingers. When they broke apart a moment later, the other boy pulled at his shoulders. "Come on, stand up. Come away from the computer."

He rose, turning to face his friend, and was completely shocked when he saw that Akira wore nothing at all. His eyes skimmed over the lithe, pale body before him, the body he'd never seen but had always longed to see, and his mouth dropped open. "A-Akira!" he blurted out stupidly. "You want me!"

"Why do you always have to _say_ things like that?" the aqua-eyed boy whispered, looking embarrassed and blushing fiercely. "Of _course_ I want you, Hikaru. This is difficult enough without you saying those sorts of things."

"B-but…but you _want_ me," he reiterated, realization racing through his brain to short-circuit what little common sense he had. Adrenaline surged through him as he panicked. Sex, sex with _Akira_! Being that entwined with the other boy would surely melt his brain and kill him.

"You're overdressed," Akira stated flatly, reaching out to lift Hikaru's t-shirt and pull it over his head.

He complied, but his thoughts were still racing. What if he did something wrong? He'd only had one experience, and that was as an _uke_. He felt completely unprepared for this! What if he failed beautiful, perfect Akira?

"Why are _you_ the one who thinks too much at times like these?" his rival muttered with amusement, shaking his head.

It was as if the other boy had heard his thoughts! Hikaru's attention snapped back to Akira's movements as he felt his jeans and boxers fall to pool around his ankles.

"Come on," Akira whispered, holding his hands out for Hikaru's.

The wonderful vision before him made him want to run away in terror. He couldn't possibly fulfill those desires. He wasn't good enough.

Akira moved close to press against him full-body. "Stop that," the other pro whispered against his lips, hands moving to cradle Hikaru's hips before pulling them demandingly against Akira's own. "Have I failed you in some way, Hikaru, that you can only think right now?" Drawing back slightly, those aqua eyes gazed down into his, full of challenge.

"Of course not," he forced out through his distraction, driven wild by the heat of the other's velvety flesh pressed against his. He could feel Akira's arousal very clearly, just like his own. The _wanting_ was racing through his body like a disease, and there was no way for him to temper it.

"Then what are you _waiting_ for?" the aqua-eyed boy asked in a low, husky voice, fingers skimming down Hikaru's spine and over his backside.

He gasped, leaning harder into the other boy as the feelings jolted through him. It was as if those fingers could move right through him, brushing the center of his being every time they stroked his skin.

Hikaru closed his eyes, trembling as Akira's hands worked their magic on him. Hot, silken lips teased his ear, then the side of his neck, his rival's tongue delicately tasting him from time to time. He couldn't bear it. He'd be broken into pieces from the trembling, from the shaking, fierce feelings that took him over every time.

"Do you want this or not?" his friend purred into his ear, hands gently kneading the flesh of Hikaru's hips and buttocks as Akira's hips rolled gently into his.

He shuddered at the feeling, mouth opening soundlessly as the heat that possessed him wound even deeper. Did he _want_ this? He _ached_ for it. He nodded mutely, unable to suppress his shivering or to hide it from Akira.

Hikaru opened his eyes as the other guided him, ascertaining that they were indeed moving to the bed. He would take control soon as seme, but it was so wonderful to feel _Akira's_ desire, the driving force of the other boy's will pushing them forward.

He couldn't stop staring at Akira, couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over the hollows that the shadows pooled in, the way the light gilded and flickered over every angle of the incredible person before him.

As he moved to lie back on the bed reluctantly, the other pro followed like a shadow to fall gently over him, pressing passionate, urgent kisses against Hikaru's lips over and over. The aqua-eyed boy was sharing his breath between kisses, and he thought he had never felt anything so intimate. It only made the need inside of him grow more intense, more demanding.

He could barely breathe through the passion that strangled him and raged through his body, replacing his blood with its white, molten heat. Akira's fingers seemed to be tracing the lines of his body, as if trying to memorize him, and the desire followed.

Why couldn't he stop shaking? It was _embarrassing. _

Akira only smiled gently, never saying a word about the trembling. In fact, it seemed as if there was a satisfaction in the aqua eyes that skimmed over Hikaru's uncontrolled body.

He couldn't seem to find enough strength or will to resist or take over yet. It was addictive and enticing to be the absolute focus of the other boy for any amount of time, especially like _this._ Every time he thought to rise, those hands and fingers caressed him in some new and devastating way, sending ripples of pleasure shivering through him to destroy his intent and his objective.

Akira moved back to kneel between his legs, fingers trailing down his sides as the aqua-eyed boy leaned down to deliver hot, wet kisses to his stomach. Those fingers slipped unexpectedly over his hips to torture his inner thighs with fleeting and warm touches.

Hikaru jerked and gasped involuntarily, startled and alarmed by his rival's sudden movement, not to mention the _violent_ surge of the desire that had already consumed him.

"Relax," Akira whispered against the overheated flesh, fingers tormenting Hikaru with ruthless deliberation.

"It's hard when…my whole body is tight and shaking like this," he ground out, staring up at his friend like a cornered animal.

The other boy smirked slightly, stroking his hips as if to calm him, but it definitely did _not_ have a soothing effect on him, nor did the kisses that moved lower and lower. He untwisted his fingers from the sheets and reached down to stroke them through his love's silken hair.

"I want to _touch_ you," Hikaru whispered insistently, twisting restlessly under Akira.

"Soon," the other boy assured him, voice vibrating against his body immediately above the flesh that ached so badly.

He moaned, arching helplessly against his friend. Lips and fingers caressed the hottest part of him without warning, forcing him to buck and cry out loudly. Firm hands pressed him back into the bed while Akira's lips and tongue teased him, barely touching him, and then only for the briefest of moments.

The wet heat that teased and toyed him was pushing him to the breaking point. "_Akira!_" he cried desperately, clenching his hands in the other boy's hair. "_Please!"_

The aqua-eyed boy unfolded from his curled position, leaning to kiss Hikaru again. "Can't take it?" his rival taunted sweetly, aqua eyes like liquid heat. "But I _like_ you like this."

He strained upwards for Akira's kiss, craving more.

"At least you aren't thinking anymore," his friend murmured, brushing his thumb over Hikaru's parted lips.

"No," Hikaru breathed, gently nipping the finger. He captured the other boy's wrist and used the hand in Akira's hair to pull the other down to him.

He lost himself in their kiss, trying to melt into Akira and become one with him. If they kissed each other any more deeply, he would drown. If they could become one, those eyes, those lips and the person in his arms…would always be inseparable from him. They weren't even together yet, not really, but he couldn't tolerate the thought of being separated any further than this from Akira. It made him even more desperate to make love to his friend – as close as he could come to becoming one with him.

This was what he had been afraid of – that being this close to his rival would lose him forever. Hikaru was at his mercy, as always. Their power struggle would always continue. Neither one of them would ever be content to lie there compliantly.

Hikaru tried to sit up again, but was once more pressed back. Akira broke their kiss to give him a determined look.

"No, Hikaru, lie still."

"But I want to make love to you," he insisted, frowning up at the other boy. "Besides, you said I could touch you."

Akira smiled. "Touch away. But you're staying where you are, and you're going to let me do this."

"Do _what_?" he asked anxiously, becoming slightly suspicious and alarmed.

"It's all right," the aqua-eyed boy murmured, smiling that sly, peculiar smile again as a hand slipped under the other pillow to retrieve…lubricant??

Hikaru's eyes went wide. "Oh, _no_, Akira. No! _I'm_ supposed to be seme, and I'll be—"

"Oh? Is that so? And just what gave you _that_ idea?" Akira brought their faces closed together again, aqua eyes aggressive and possessive.

He swallowed, struggling against the fresh spike of desire driven into him by those eyes. "Ah…I…thought…"

"Lie there," Akira murmured huskily against his lips before kissing him again.

Hikaru tried to keep an eye on the other boy's hands, but it was terribly difficult when one of those hands was currently engaged in driving him mad again, as well as the fact that he was trying to survive being kissed senseless. His own hands were busy tracing over Akira's spine and lower back, unable to hover for any longer.

He felt a slick, cool finger gently stroke his entrance and thought to twist away from it, but then Akira's other hand coasted up his thigh to wrap around that _ache_, driving every thought from his head as he moaned into his friend's mouth.

His awareness had narrowed down to the feel of those strong and beautiful fingers around him, holding him, wanting _him_. It only increased the tight, desperate ache that had taken over his lower body. The feeling was driving him mad, and was like nothing else he'd ever experienced, either by himself or with Kota.

He was barely aware of the discomfort and strangeness, as lost as he was in the sensation of his rival's lips and hands. The only communication he was capable of at the moment were inarticulate cries, and those were muffled in their kiss.

Akira drew back again, giving him a solemn, tender look. "Are you ready?"

Hikaru suddenly became aware of the other boy's fingers inside of him, and he blushed through the flush of arousal already suffusing his face. "Ah," he replied breathily, reaching out to stroke his fingers over Akira's stomach. He could feel the muscles jumping under his fingertips.

The aqua-eyed boy prepared himself, then lifted Hikaru's hips, slowly pushing his way in.

Hikaru clenched his teeth, tossing his head from side to side to withstand the feeling. It was painful and strange, filling him in a way that his body couldn't seem to comprehend. But it was _Akira._

He was distracted from the less-than-pleasant feelings by Akira's fingers surrounding his flesh and caressing him once again. There was nothing tentative or teasing about it this time. The other boy's touch was firm and had him panting hard in moments, fighting for his breath.

He managed to open his eyes to look up at Akira's face, and was enchanted by the look he caught there. It was an urgent, tense and sexy look, only enhanced by the clenched teeth and deeply flushed cheeks.

"Can I…can I move?" Akira gasped out, eyes opening to meet his. Their aqua fire glimmered like the ocean in the flickering candlelight.

"_Yes_." He felt that his body had adjusted enough to handle the sensation.

Akira began moving slowly at first, but picked up speed when Hikaru rewarded him with breathless cries.

As Hikaru listened to his rival's low moans and greeted that body over and over again with his, he was forced to revise his opinion. He couldn't _handle_ the situation – it was handling _him_. He had wrapped his arms and legs tightly about Akira, just holding on as the other boy thrust into him over and over, silky hair brushing his throat and cheeks repeatedly.

"'_Kira…_nnn…**_please_**…" he choked out, tormented.

Akira's teeth found his ear and bit down lightly, tongue tasting him, but no other response was forthcoming.

_Always, always…please let it always be **us**…_

"Are…you…_mine_?" the aqua-eyed boy panted into his ear.

Hikaru moaned through his teeth in what he hoped sounded like affirmation, back arching in response to the onslaught of sensation and the over-the-edge intensity of Akira inside of him.

"_Hikaru_," Akira gasped into his ear. Time seemed to stop for a long, heavy moment, wrapping them in a flooding warmth.

Then Akira cried out much more loudly, movements becoming erratic and frenetic as he embraced Hikaru tightly with one arm, the other hand still otherwise occupied between them.

Hikaru arched his body one last time to meet Akira's, and then he was lost to the fury of their pleasure and connection. He was shaking violently in his rival's embrace, trying to swallow and choke back the love that welled up too forcefully.

_Too much._ Akira would notice…but all he wanted was for the two of them to stay like this.

Awareness of his surroundings swept back like blood returning to pressed flesh, and he opened his eyes to find soft aqua eyes watching him. Hikaru watched as Akira lifted a hand towards him to brush at first one cheek and then the other, and realized with mortification that he had shed tears. _Tears_ from the emotion of completely joining with the one he loved for the first time.

"Do you, now?" Akira asked softly, mysterious, sweet smile still in place.

"Do I what?" Hikaru asked, confused.

The other pro blinked, surprised. "You didn't realize it?"

He stared, shaking his head.

His friend laughed a little in delight, cupping Hikaru's cheek with a warm hand. "You said that you _loved_ me, you little fool."

Hikaru gasped, raising a hand to cover his mouth as if he could take it back. "Did I really?"

"Yes," Akira replied slowly, arching a brow. "Did you want to take it back? I would have thought that you'd mean something that you blurted out unintentionally like that."

"No, of course I don't…just…I'm surprised. I _do_, I _really_ do, but I never wanted to…to scare you away by putting such a weight on you." Hikaru looked away, feeling lonely and vulnerable.

Akira turned Hikaru's face back to his. "Don't be ridiculous," the other boy chided. "I love you, too. But I wanted to be certain before saying such a thing to you."

"I've loved you for years," Hikaru murmured candidly, raising a hand to touch his rival's cheek lightly.

"I never knew what love was before you…but I think that I must have loved you for some time, as well. Will you be…with me?"

He nodded emphatically, pulling Akira down to lie on his chest. "That's what I want most in the world. What I've always wanted."

After a long, silent moment, Akira spoke again. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I am _not_ an uke!" Hikaru exclaimed passionately. Akira didn't answer him, but he thought he felt the other boy smile against his chest. "I'm _not_," he repeated firmly, tapping a warning against his friend's shoulder blade.

Why didn't anyone ever take him seriously? He sighed resignedly.

Hikaru didn't bother to fight as the warmth of his new lover's body lulled him to sleep. He was _exactly_ where he wanted to be.

* * *

**A/N 2: Oo, interesting. Got quite a response from you guys on Akira's possessiveness and obsession! Ok, let's respond to that. ;) All my opinion, of course, and my own peculiar beliefs!**

**Akira had only his Go before Hikaru came along, and never really had to deal with anyone his own age being close to him. He's somewhat socially maladjusted, at the very least, and has a rather rigid personality. He's also the most likely to snap, in my opinion – but don't worry, I'm not going there!**

**Now he has someone that can be taken away from him. He'd probably be thinking, "Okay, if I capture enough territory, he's permanently mine!" You guys read how he was lying awake, disturbed by the fact that he couldn't 'map' the patterns of Hikaru and that they would keep changing on him.**

**Someone can be possessive of you and obsessed about you and still love you. Possible bad situation, yeah, but it's true – and the extent of the possessiveness is important to note. If someone starts forbidding you to see your friends or is screening your calls, run! **

**I doubt Akira would go that far, but even if he did, I don't think Hikaru would run. He's too stuck on Akira. I think he'd put up with too much.  
**

**And you can bet if Hikaru had any competition for Akira's attention, he'd be just as jealous and possessive – and he's already obsessed. ;)**

**Everyone loves different people differently. (That's a mouthful.) Akira and Hikaru would definitely have one of those intense, focused loves with each other, in my opinion. All of the chasing, stalking and internal conversations they had with each other…hmmm. The fact that reserved Akira loses it over Hikaru, even crying in front of other people, was like a flag being wildly waved to me. ;) The second he finds out where Hikaru is, he's off and running. If Hikaru runs, he simply chases him. Innnteresting.**

**And if you want to talk about obsession, they breathed, slept and ate Go/each other for years – a sure sign. ;) I'm just working with it, that's all. They were already extremely obsessed with each other.**

**Which is great. Fluffy, vague feelings make me itch!**

* * *

**Replies to reviews (just one, since I can directly message everyone else):**

**Joyce – Ahh, thank you!! I will keep updating, albeit slowly at times! We're almost done! Thank you for following it and loving it. ;D I couldn't ask anything more! I'm sorry to have made you wait.**


	32. Possession

**A/N: Oh, MAN. I'm sorry that this took so long. I was violently ill one of the weekends that I was supposed to work on this, so it was delayed. Not to mention my difficulty with writing the end of things. ::sigh:: I'll never give up!**

* * *

Isumi sighed as he put the last plate in the rack to dry. Since he and Waya had become an item, the other boy spent practically every moment at Isumi's place, which meant that he ended up feeding Waya more often than not. Which meant…infinite dishes, somehow.

He turned his head towards his bedroom, where he assumed Waya was still trying to hide under the sheets. "Waya…you're going to do the dishes next time. I can't recall the last time you washed anything. Or cooked anything. Or even put anything _away_."

Isumi thought he heard a grumbled response and made his way back into the bedroom, determined to disturb Waya. "You ungrateful little monster, get out of bed!" he demanded, jabbing a finger into the twisted nest of sheet and blanket.

A hand snaked out suddenly and latched onto his wrist, jerking him down a little. Waya's head emerged from under a lump of sheet, amber eyes disgruntled and narrow. "I have been so sleep-deprived since hooking up with you, Isumi. Let me sleep!"

Isumi frowned down at his sleep-rumpled lover. "If you don't like it, you could always sleep at home one of these nights."

Waya released Isumi's wrist, turning on his side to face him with a little huff of annoyed breath. "Hmph. You're so mean. All I want is to be with you. I can't…" The auburn-haired boy trailed off, refusing to meet Isumi's eyes.

"What?" he asked in a gentler tone than before, sensing something beneath the surface.

"I can't really sleep when I'm not here," Waya confessed quietly, closing his eyes.

Isumi straightened, shocked. He would never have believed that the other boy would say something so sweet to him. Perhaps Waya didn't realize?

"I can't sleep without you, either," he said softly, leaning down to stroke a hand through his lover's unruly hair.

Waya smiled faintly, but quickly hid it by tucking his chin and huddling into the blanket. "I want to live with you."

Isumi sighed. "You can't, Waya. People would know right away what was going on if you moved in with me. It would have to be a much larger place, with two bedrooms and two beds. We can't afford that."

"I'm _sick_ of being so far away from you," the amber-eyed boy muttered rebelliously, brows drawing down into a truly spectacular scowl. The blanket muffled the words, but it didn't lessen the impact of Waya's tone and attitude.

"I know, but there's nothing to be done right now." His voice came out sounding a little stern.

Waya glared up at him, pushing the blanket away. "I'll bet you _like_ being able to keep me at a distance and separate from your life," the other boy shot back in an accusatory tone.

Isumi's eyes widened. "Waya! I do _not_. Don't be ridiculous. I love you, and I would like nothing better than to be able to relax into that feeling and have you with me all of the time. But be sensible! We can't do that right now."

"I don't want to be '_sensible_'," Waya said, sneering the last word as if the very concept were disgusting. "I want to be with you completely." He turned away, facing the wall with his back to Isumi.

"Do you really love me that much, Yoshitaka?" Isumi asked somberly.

"I may be slow when it comes to emotional things, _Shin_, but I would think you'd know how I feel by now." Waya's tone was surly and bitter, sullenness permeating the air around the other boy.

"You didn't answer my question," Isumi replied coolly.

Waya turned and sat up suddenly, the sheets falling back to reveal his naked, slender shoulders and torso. Amber eyes flared with anger as they met Isumi's. "_Yes_, I love you! I thought that was already settled. Isn't it clear enough? I had to overcome some serious hang-ups to be with you, but the feelings were strong enough. I can't sleep without you. They're strong enough for that, too. And I'm insanely jealous whenever you go off with other people. I can't control myself when it comes to you. What do _you_ think? Geez."

Isumi smiled a little as he studied the other boy, eyes lingering on the passionate marks that his mouth had left on that tawny skin. The late morning light gilded and warmed Waya's angry countenance and wild hair.

Aware of Isumi's scrutiny, Waya's gaze fell to rest on the floor, faint color staining his cheeks. "Why are you looking at me like that?" the other boy grumbled, fists clenching in the sheets.

"Because you're adorable. And I'm glad to be having an argument of this nature with you."

"Isumi!" Waya cried, glaring up at him again. This time, however, there was a touch of vulnerability in the amber eyes. "You make me say these stupid, embarrassing things, and then you say embarrassing things to me! I'm _not_ adorable. Only animals and children get called 'adorable'!"

He couldn't repress the smirk that ghosted over his face. "You _do_ act like an animal, sometimes…"

"You want to see me act like an animal?!" Waya threatened, rising up on his knees.

Isumi watched as the sheets fell further, revealing the rest of his lover's body. "I'd love to," he said with a slow smile.

Waya gasped as if just realizing that he'd revealed himself, then curled up in an attempt to hide his nudity. "You're trying to trick me!" the amber-eyed boy exclaimed indignantly to the bed. "I know how _this_ goes!"

Ironically, Isumi found his lover's back quite alluring, too, so Waya had not truly removed temptation by hiding everything else. He found that back beautiful, and he had memories of the image in many situations, some of which were definitely not innocent.

Isumi leaned down and ran a finger over the gentle ridges of Waya's spine, following them up to the other boy's neck.

Waya shuddered, hands coming up to protect the vulnerable point. "Isumi, stop it!"

He grabbed the slender wrists and held them tightly, pulling the hands away and down as he leaned close to set his teeth against the back of Waya's neck. "Now where's that tattoo?" he murmured, burying his nose in the fringe of his lover's hair.

"Stooop!!" Waya squirmed helplessly, trying to duck away, but Isumi's arms on either side kept him neatly bracketed.

"Is that whining I hear? _Whining_ from tough, invincible Yoshi-kun? My little Waya?" His tone was teasing and unrepentant as he nuzzled into the other boy's neck.

"You're dead!" Waya growled, struggling more determinedly. "You know I hate 'Yoshi-kun'! Stop calling me adorable and little! I'll show you!"

"If I set you free, the only thing you'll be doing is undressing me," he replied in a low voice, biting the curve of Waya's neck a little more sharply than he had intended.

Waya flinched and made a small sound in response, almost like a little cry cut off.

It drove him mad when the other boy tried to act so strong, so impervious. He needed to see that some vulnerability existed behind those challenging amber eyes. To confirm that he was truly and deeply wanted.

"I need to shower…if you want to do this…" Waya murmured in an unsteady voice, head remaining down.

"Do _you_ want it?" he asked softly, massaging his lover's wrists a little as he held them. Finding the tattoo, he laid light, feathery kisses upon it.

Waya mumbled something to the bed again.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you, as I'm sure you know."

"I said that I _always_ want you," Waya snapped.

"You don't _act_ like it," he retorted, pressing his chest more tightly against the other boy's back.

At last his friend's head lifted, and Waya's head turned to the side, pinning Isumi with one amber eye. "Do you want me to act like an animal in heat or something?"

The thought jolted him. "No," he replied instantly, disturbed, but something deep inside of him replied with a resounding '**_yes_**'. The thought of Waya being eager, desperate and out of control with him was almost too seductive to push away. Yet he valued his lover's strength and self-possession.

_**Sometimes**, then._

Isumi released Waya, straightening and backing away a little. He didn't trust himself. With how he felt at the moment, he might seek to press his lover into something with less dignity than the other boy found acceptable. As it was, Waya seemed to think that his dignity was compromised every time they made love.

Why did he feel so strange, so wrong? Why did he seek to expose by other means the vulnerability that Waya refused him? He should be satisfied with what he had now.

But the more time he spent with Waya, the more he loved him. And the more he loved him, the more he wanted of him.

He had always been an unassuming person, a sensitive person, content to take what others would offer and leave it at that. Why was it so different now? How could he be so demanding and selfish with Waya? Possibly even hurtful?

"Isumi?" Waya asked cautiously, amber eyes concerned.

"Go ahead, go take your shower. I'm sorry, Waya, don't worry about it. I didn't mean to press you." He turned away, running a hand through his hair, and pulled a book off of the shelf at random as he retreated from the room.

He stationed himself on the couch and found himself reading a book of Go problems. At least it would be mentally absorbing. Perhaps it could keep him from coveting things that he shouldn't.

* * *

Waya stood before the mirror in the humid bathroom and stared at his reflection through the condensation on the glass. He could just see the vague suggestion of a skinny boy staring back. But no matter how he stared, he couldn't figure out what Isumi saw, what Isumi had been staring at with that _hungry_ look.

What more could the older boy want from him? Had he failed him somehow? He had thought for a long time in the shower, but still wasn't any closer to the answer. Isumi said things about love and desire fairly often, asking Waya if he wanted him, if he loved him. It had become something of a regular thing.

He always told Isumi that he loved him, and that he definitely wouldn't be sleeping with him if he didn't want him. But it didn't seem to satisfy his lover. It was almost as if the words weren't enough. What more could he possibly offer?

In the beginning, just his presence had been enough for the dark-haired boy. But now…

Waya touched the marks that Isumi had left on his chest and throat yesterday afternoon when they should have been playing Go, or studying it at the very least. When they made love, it was almost as if the other boy was trying to become a permanent part of him, or find a way to absorb his soul. Like a succubus…

No one would ever believe him if he tried to tell them how passionate and aggressive Isumi was. The stoic demeanor and calm blue eyes were very deceptive, especially when their owner was disguised within his respectable and reserved clothing.

He was pleased beyond words that those feelings were only for him, that he was the only person that Isumi felt that way about. But it also disturbed him a little. His lover was pushing harder and harder, but Waya didn't know what exactly it was that the dark-haired boy _wanted_ so much, so he couldn't give it to him. What if he didn't have the means to give Isumi whatever that thing was?

Waya bowed his head and opened the bathroom door, determined to satisfy whatever craving it was that his lover had. He lifted his eyes as he left the warm, safe space, locating Isumi on the couch. The other boy was staring at him, looking a little surprised and confused.

He climbed onto Isumi's lap, straddling his lover's thighs, and took that stunned face in his hands. Seriously, he gazed into the deep-ocean eyes that were trained on his. "Whatever it is you want, Shinichiro, take it. I don't know what it is, but I want to give it to you. Anything you want…" He faltered, allowing his head to fall forward so that his forehead was resting against Isumi's.

Isumi was silent.

"I love you more than _any_thing," Waya choked out as he closed his eyes tightly, struggling to keep a grip on his composure. "But all I have…are words." His voice broke, but he didn't care at the moment. "What is it you want?" he asked tremulously. "Is there something…that _I_ can give you?"

Isumi embraced him with painful tightness. "I want you to forget about everything but _me_ when we're intimate," the dark-haired boy replied in a strained, roughened voice. "Even yourself."

He opened his eyes in surprise and Isumi's were right there, meeting his strongly.

"I want you to leave your self-control and pride wherever you drop your clothes," Isumi elaborated, blue eyes full of longing and pain. "I want everything that you are…to be mine without reservation. But I can't…ask that."

Waya drew in a deep breath and released it slowly, closing his eyes again. He should have known it would be something like that. Something difficult, maybe even impossible for him. Isumi already made him feel so much, and he didn't know what pride the other boy was talking about. He felt as if he became someone else when they were 'intimate', as his lover always put it. He couldn't fight the feelings, and he couldn't even control his body, so he didn't know what was meant by 'self-control'. He always felt as if he were shameless and too eager when they were together.

Apparently, Isumi felt differently. What it sounded like to him was a request for more affection.

"Okay," he assented, tilting his head slightly so that he could brush a kiss over Isumi's lips.

"Waya…you don't know what you're saying…don't agree so easily…"

"I _said_ 'okay'," Waya muttered, pressing a harder kiss to those unresponsive lips.

"Waya, it might be more than you—"

He opened his eyes, annoyed, and met Isumi's anxious blue gaze. "Oh, for the love of…!" He stroked his tongue insistently against the seal of the other boy's mouth as he kissed him again, waiting.

Slowly, Isumi opened his mouth, allowing Waya inside. Waya took advantage immediately and plunged in as far as he could go, his hands rising to unbutton the other boy's damnable shirt as they kissed.

Isumi moaned into his mouth, expression pained as his hands closed over Waya's shoulders.

He gasped back as his body responded, deliberately failing to stifle it. This was surely what the other boy wanted. Even if it was terribly embarrassing and made him feel exposed, he would try for Isumi.

The hands clenching on his shoulders were a little painful, but he didn't say anything. He didn't want to say anything that sounded like a rejection of any part of Isumi.

Waya broke the kiss and pulled away slowly, sliding off of the couch to stand. At the other boy's confused look, he held out his hands for Isumi's. When he was finally rewarded with them, he pulled his lover up, firmly leading him back to the bed.

Isumi pulled his hands away suddenly when they reached the bedside, expression tormented. "I don't want to make you go through this with me. I'm being too demanding—"

Waya caught the other boy's hands again and turned, wrapping Isumi's arms around him from behind. He pressed back against his lover's warm body, feeling completely surrounded and happy to be so. "I want you to hold me," he said insistently. "And I want to give you whatever you need. Stop pulling back."

Isumi embraced him more tightly, lips finding his ear. "I need to be everything to you. I need you to let go. Can you handle that?"

He shivered as the dark-haired boy's warm breath became intimate with his ear. "Yes," he replied breathlessly, even though the very idea would have been unacceptably frightening to him not so long ago.

"Then touch me," Isumi whispered.

Waya turned in the circle of his lover's arms, gazing up into Isumi's vulnerable look. It was a private expression, one that no one but him would ever see. He had to admit that it fed a need within him when his usually composed friend was emotional with him.

He pushed the unbuttoned shirt from the other boy's shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and ran his hands up Isumi's sides. It earned him a shudder, and hands rising to caress his neck and cheeks. Waya leaned into the touch, smiling despite himself.

Isumi had made him soft. That was embarrassing, too, but only the two of them had to know. It was okay if those blue eyes saw him naked like this, both physically and emotionally. He knew that he was 'safe' inside of the warmth that surrounded him; the warmth of his lover.

And if it wasn't as safe as it felt, he didn't care anymore. As he gazed up into Isumi's loving, needing eyes, he thought that nothing would be too much to sacrifice for this. Maybe even himself, if that was ever necessary.

_That_ was frightening. But he didn't pull away. He was already completely committed. And he didn't want things any other way. Besides, it was better that he be hurt than he hurt Isumi. He had already decided on that.

But seeing the shining look in Isumi's eyes every time they were fixed on him made him feel fairly confident that he would never have to worry about being deeply hurt by the dark-haired boy. If anything, it was _Isumi_ that would hurt himself. And so Waya had to protect him from himself.

He reached up, draping his arms about Isumi's neck, and splayed his fingers over the warm, naked shoulder blades, wondering idly how a boy's skin could be so soft. "I love you," he whispered, staring into those blue eyes as he leaned up to reach the other boy's lips.

Relief flashed through Isumi's eyes the moment before they closed. "Thank you, Yoshitaka."

Waya paused before their lips touched. "Don't be stupid! There's nothing to thank me for. If anything, I should be the one thanking you."

He wanted to cringe at being called 'Yoshitaka', but he didn't complain. If it made Isumi happy to call him his wretched given name, he would live with it.

Isumi's eyes opened halfway to regard him in bemusement. "What do you have to thank me for?"

At this rate, he would never get them into the bed! "All kinds of things." He undid the buckle of Isumi's belt with swift, deft fingers, working on the fastenings of the dark-haired boy's pants as he continued to speak. "Love. Great conversation. Great food. Great games. Great sex. I'd still be in brutal denial without you." He watched in satisfaction as the last of Isumi's clothing fell to the floor with his assistance.

"Ah…" Isumi looked down, surprised at his sudden nakedness, and blushed a little. It was obvious to both of them that he was still interested, despite all of the talking.

"I was _wondering_," Waya muttered, smirking a little. He pressed their bodies together again, rubbing against Isumi's heat like the animal he had been accused of being.

The dark-haired boy gave a little gasp, then bore Waya down onto the bed with his weight, blue eyes dark and determined. "Do you truly have to wonder?"

He stared helplessly at his friend's body, the blood rising in his face. Isumi was straddling him and pinning him down with hands on his shoulders, so he was doubly restrained. As much as he cherished being helpless, he thought perhaps a role reversal was finally in order.

"What is it?" Isumi asked at his silence, frowning slightly in concern.

"I was…wondering," he began hesitantly, eyes heatedly tracing the angles of the other boy's body. "Am I still forbidden…from topping you?"

"You actually _want_ to?" Isumi's expression was one of stunned surprise.

Images of the other boy thrashing beneath him flashed through his head. "_Yes_, I _want_ to. Why do you sound so surprised? Geez. You're _hot_, don't you know that?" He blushed harder at his own words, but they had to be said. He didn't know where all of Isumi's insecurity had come from, but it would only get worse until he managed to address it somehow.

The dark-haired boy gave him a peculiar smile, shadowed eyes regarding him with faint amusement. "I can't believe that you said something like that."

"Yeah, me either. Stop talking, okay?" He reached down between their bodies to wrap his fingers about Isumi's arousal. The burning heat of the flesh in his hand sent a thrill through him, shocking his body into a deeper desire. It almost made him want to take back his topping request. But there would be time for that later.

Isumi moaned, eyes closing as his back arched involuntarily. "God…Waya," his friend breathed after a moment, one blue eye opening slightly to fix on him. "You don't play around, do you?"

He grinned. "So can I? I want to see you like that again."

"If you…really want to," the other boy replied, looking almost shy.

"I _do._ How many fucking times do I have to say it, and assure you that I meant to say it?" He laughed to take any possible sting out of the words. "You're enough to drive anyone with any sort of sex drive crazy with all of this hand fluttering and anxiety and 'are you sure, are you sure?'. Geez."

"_Waya_…" Isumi warned sternly, glowering at him. "Don't be obnoxious if you want to be seme."

He cringed, lifting his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but it's _true_. I don't know how else to tell you that I want it." Waya wriggled out from under Isumi and leaned towards the desk, yanking the top drawer open. He grabbed the lubricant and shoved it under a pillow.

"You don't even want to _look_ at it until you're ready, do you?" Isumi asked suspiciously.

Waya gave a little yell of frustration, slamming his head back against the pillow. "_Shinichiro._ Please. Lie. Down. I don't care about looking _at_ it, but I don't want to have to go looking _for_ it in the middle of everything!"

Those blue eyes regarded him doubtfully.

Pushing Isumi down suddenly and a little forcefully, he pinned the larger boy against the bed and descended on him. It had aroused him to have his lover being so possessive and direct earlier, but after he had taken his shower, Isumi had been like this.

Waya rested his full weight on the beautiful body beneath his, moving so that his desire made flesh brushed against Isumi's. The dark-haired boy arched his back and choked back a gasp, but those oceanic eyes remained open just the slightest bit, watching him.

He repeated the movement over and over, tormenting his own body as well as they trembled and breathed together as one, the time between their twinned breaths becoming shorter and shorter.

Waya leaned in to gently bite the sensitive skin beneath the corner of Isumi's jaw, inhaling the other boy's warm, reassuring scent. He kissed his way towards his lover's chin, tongue tentatively lapping at the skin he encountered on the way there.

His awareness of everything but the person he loved faded away, and as if they had both had the same thought, his right hand and Isumi's left found each other and embraced, fingers folding over each other at the same moment.

He laid silent kisses of worship down the dark-haired boy's throat and across his smooth chest, teasing the nipple closest to his mouth with fleeting licks and nips. Isumi writhed more forcefully beneath him, fingers alternately clenching and relaxing in the back of Waya's still damp hair.

As he moved down to scrape his teeth across the tight, shaking tension that was Isumi's stomach and abdomen, he realized that the other boy was moaning his name out slowly over and over again in a senseless litany. It was something that tended to happen when they were like this. He grinned a moment, but had to stop in order to continue with what he was doing. But it was sweet, and he loved to hear it.

Waya wrapped his fingers gently around the other boy's hot, hard flesh that was pressing insistently against the base of his throat, slowly kneading and caressing it as he ran his tongue over the skin of first one hip and then the other.

Isumi's hips rolled against Waya eagerly, the dark-haired boy's litany devolving into a series of whimpers and wanting sounds.

"Shh…" he faux-soothed his impassioned lover, secretly very satisfied with the reactions he was provoking with his attentions. He ignored the fierce, painful ache of his own arousal and sat up, leaning over Isumi to retrieve the lubricant from under the other pillow.

Waya returned to his previous position of practically lying on Isumi with his face just level with his lover's hips, forced to bend his knees and keep his feet in the air just to stay in the bed comfortably. Didn't matter. It was easy enough to manage.

He inched down a little and rubbed his cheek softly against Isumi's hardness, forcing a loud cry out of the dark-haired boy and earning bucking hips, as well. He turned his head a little more to brush a kiss over the throbbing flesh. "Do you like that?" he murmured against his beloved's sex as he held it cupped to his lips, sly and taunting.

Isumi was panting hard and writhing without control against the bed, but managed to lift his head and open his eyes slightly to look at Waya. "_Wa_…" the dark-haired boy managed to gasp out.

Waya smiled up into the blue eyes and flushed, dazed face, and opened his mouth as Isumi watched, slowly dragging his tongue across the burning flesh he still held before his lips.

His friend collapsed against the bed, crying out, hands closing hard enough on his shoulders to be painful.

Waya flinched, but didn't protest. However, he knew exactly what that pressure begged of him. "I know," he murmured, sitting up again. He went about preparing Isumi as quickly as he could, coating his fingers with the lubricant and beginning the necessary stretching immediately.

The other boy's body welcomed his fingers, practically drawing them in, and he didn't have to linger over it very long at all. Isumi was plainly starving for him, extreme arousal stamped across his body everywhere that Waya looked.

He prepared himself finally, then entered his lover in one swift, hard thrust. Isumi arched into it with his entire body, almost deafening Waya with a loud, sobbing cry that verged on a scream. He set a punishing pace, determined to show his lover that he _did_ want him, and that neither of them would break.

"Don't you…_see_?" he whispered in a raspy, uneven voice between thrusts into his beloved's tight, wet heat. "I'm…incomplete…_without you_," he added in the same fashion. The last was delivered directly into the other boy's ear, Isumi's dark, sweat-dampened hair feathering gently against Waya's nose and cheek.

As he watched Isumi writhe and spasm in boneless, vulnerable pleasure beneath him, he remembered how very much he had enjoyed being seme last time. Every time he moved, it had a very direct and intoxicating effect on the dark-haired boy. It was horribly arousing to watch, and made him feel a little wicked even as he reveled in provoking it further, fascinated with the effects and the inevitable conclusion.

As he felt his own body tightening and gathering itself, he leaned down and licked the corner of Isumi's open, gasping mouth, seeking attention for a kiss. Slowly, the other boy's head turned his way, tilting to accept. A faint glimmer of blue greeted him, showing that the other's eyes were open just the slightest bit. He sank into the sinful, dark heat of his lover's mouth, finding it something like the heat that gripped his body so tightly as he moved into it over and over again, and plunged into both for all he was worth. He wanted to own it all, fill it _all_, to pour into Isumi and fill him like an ocean. Being held and carried within his beautiful person forever would surely be heaven.

He reached down between them and squeezed Isumi's arousal tightly before beginning slow, torturous strokes. It didn't matter that their timing was a little irregular.

_Can't you feel this? Can't you **feel** this!!_ His thoughts were fervent and intense, as if he expected his target to hear him.

Isumi suddenly stiffened, body clenching around Waya's, then filled Waya's mouth with cries so forceful that they vibrated into his throat and seemed to shake _his_ body, too. He focused against his lover's bucking and thrashing, still moving but having to hold Isumi's body tightly against his in order to keep it stable enough to receive him.

Isumi was holding him tightly as well, legs wrapped around him as if to keep him there forever. As the dark-haired boy came down from the peak of climax, he made soft noises deep in his throat every time Waya moved against him. It was wildly exciting – not that he'd needed any further stimulation, really.

His entire body suddenly seized, and he lost himself in deep, wrenching gasps and surges of passion in Isumi's arms. It felt like the other boy's liquid pressure had surrounded him, dragging him under and rolling him over and over like some frail piece of flotsam adrift in a raging ocean. His awareness failed him utterly, focused as tightly as it was by the explosion of pleasure and feeling within his own body, but he knew the other boy would be holding him the entire time.

Like water, like liquid, Isumi invaded every part of him and made him feel it, sometimes exquisitely, sometimes painfully, but always strongly.

At some point, their kiss had broken, for he became vaguely aware that he was grinding his teeth against the pleasure-pain with his face buried in Isumi's neck and hair. "Nn…" he managed to offer.

Isumi was still catching his breath. "Wasn't sure if you were…coming back. You were stunned."

"Ha. Your body just…sucks me in." Waya closed his eyes as he lay against Isumi's chest, listening to the other boy's heartbeat and erratic breathing as that chest rose and fell beneath his cheek.

They lay quiet for many minutes, Isumi's hands gently rubbing his back, and Waya found himself thinking about their first time, and what he had said to his best friend. He had been _cruel_, brutally cruel in his fear. It must have crushed Isumi's heart to be spoken to so coldly just after their first time. What kind of person was he that he could have said anything like that to someone so close to him, especially when that someone was such a kind and sensitive person?

He sighed, lightly stroking his lover's side soothingly. "I was really awful to you that first time. It must have really hurt you. I'm so sorry. I know the words probably don't mean anything, but I really am. I can't believe that you still wanted me after that."

Isumi was silent for a while longer, as if thinking. "Yes, it…did hurt. But I love you, Waya, no matter what. There wasn't really any other choice for me."

He resolved then that he would stay with the other boy no matter what. Whatever Isumi could do to him, it could never be as bad as what he had already put his lover through. He knew it wouldn't be acceptable if he said it…so he wouldn't say it. He would keep it inside and carry it through their relationship, throughout his life.

Waya relaxed a little more, feeling as if everything was where it ought to be. Feeling complete. "I love you, too…no matter what."

He listened to Isumi's breathing soften into sleep, closing his own eyes. "Whatever you need…" he whispered.


	33. In Go and In Life :FINAL CHAPTER:

**A/N: This is it!! The LAST chapter! Thank you all for your reviews and support. I have very much enjoyed writing this story and having the chance to share with all of you, not to mention all of the great comments. I can't say that I'm not a little glad that it's over, now. It's difficult to remain on a decent update schedule, as I'm sure you've all noticed! Thank you for your patience with me. ;D  
**

* * *

"Are you _kidding_?" Hikaru exclaimed, whipping around to stare at Akira. He _had_ been attempting to brush his teeth, but in his shock he had dropped his toothbrush in the sink. 

Why did Akira always have to hit him with these things in the _morning_? At least, it seemed that way to _him_.

"My father would like us to have dinner as a family this evening in order to discuss our relationship," Akira repeated patiently, small lines of stress appearing around his aqua eyes.

"That's what I _thought_ you said…" Hikaru murmured slowly, turning back to the sink to stare at his abandoned toothbrush.

Dinner? To 'discuss' their relationship? He hadn't thought it was up for any kind of 'discussion'. From Akira's expression, _he_ wasn't looking forward to it, either.

"Hikaru?" Akira prompted, drawing closer in concern.

He turned back towards the aqua-eyed boy, leaning back against the vanity. "Do we _have_ to go?" he asked meekly, pleadingly. He did _not_ want to face down Touya senior. He had been hoping that there would never be a confrontation, even though he knew realistically that the chances of escaping one were slim to none.

Akira's expression pinched. "I would appreciate it if you would come. I don't think there's any other way to resolve this. At the very least, my…" The other boy trailed off, glancing away.

"What? Your _what_?" He knew Akira had a tendency to behave like this whenever there was something important to be said or done, especially when that something might be an imposition on someone else.

When Akira looked up, his expression had smoothed into blankness. "My family. My family may not recover if we decline this invitation."

The blank look was an even stronger indicator of his rival's troubled state than the frown had been. Hikaru sighed, hanging his head as he clenched his hands around the edge of the vanity. "Okay, we'll go," he assented, tone carefully neutral.

"I don't want to burden—" Akira began, reaching a tentative hand towards him.

He caught it in one of his, smiling gamely into his friend's uncertain look. "Really, I don't mind at all. We'll go."

The aqua-eyed boy couldn't hide his relief.

Hikaru busied himself with rescuing and cleansing his sullied toothbrush in order to conceal his anxiety.

His mother had been bothering him lately every time he left the house, wanting to know where he kept spending the night and so on. Sooner or later, he was going to have to face his own family. His mother already knew that he had previously been seeing Kota, and had some suspicion of something between he and Akira after the earlier scene she had been privy to.

He had denied everything, claiming to be studying at Isumi's place, or that he was trying to help Waya improve. In fact, he had been playing less Go than he ought to be lately, being so caught up in his new relationship with Akira. They only had a week until matches started up again, and he had already received notice that his first match had been scheduled.

But despite his general anxiety, there was a calm place within him. He had already attained his heart's desire. Their first - and so far only – real lovemaking had happened a week ago. He was very much looking forward to the next time, but he'd had a hard time catching up to his rival during the week. Akira had scheduled an unholy number of tutoring games, as if deliberately avoiding him – or frantically preparing for his own match. The latter made more sense.

They had talked and held each other last night, but before he had been able to act on his desires, Akira had fallen asleep on him. It _figured_. His hormones were raging, and Akira was oblivious.

_Please don't let once a week be enough for you!_ Hikaru thought fervently, idly searching for the other boy's reflection in the mirror as he began brushing his teeth.

He didn't see Akira in the bedroom behind him, but he thought he smelled food and heard activity in the kitchen…

Grinning around his toothbrush, he stepped up his efforts and glanced at his watch. It was only 9:13 A.M. There was plenty of time before dinner to ambush Akira. After breakfast was good enough. The other boy couldn't _possibly_ avoid him for that long.

* * *

Hikaru picked at his dinner dutifully, trying to look interested in it and whatever the Meijin had to say. He and Akira had been here for an hour already, and rather than being broken, the ice had thickened through the small talk. 

His earlier plan of capturing Akira and making him his uke had somehow failed utterly, and now he was even more sexually frustrated as well as being anxious. Feeling the hard floor through all of that was not making him feel any happier.

It had been a while since he'd sat at a traditional table for any period of time, and the cushion he was sitting on was rather thin and did nothing to soften the hardness of the floor beneath him. The Meijin wouldn't want anyone to be _comfortable_, after all.

"Hikaru, what are your intentions towards my son?" Touya Koyo asked levelly during a lull in the Go chatter with his son, gaze steely.

He had been prepared for this. _Really._ Just not while he was mid-swallow. He began choking immediately and had to pound on his own chest while coughing up his lungs in order to breathe again. He was vaguely aware of Akira patting him gently on the back a couple of times.

_Akira, that is **not** going to save me._

After his eyes had stopped watering and his voice was restored to him, he looked up bravely into the face of the devil. Naturally the fact that he had choked when the question was asked seemed to have condemned him even further in the eyes of Akira's father, as those eyes were even colder than before.

"I…" he began hesitantly, voice catching in his raw throat. "We're dating?" he offered hoarsely, clearing his throat.

Touya senior drew back from the table slightly, tucking his hands into his sleeves. "So you intend to burden him for a short time only? Why not withdraw completely? You're just an inconvenience to this family." Although the man's tone was even, the words practically blazed with suppressed resentment.

"Father!" Akira burst out, expression outraged.

"Dear…" Touya senior's wife began quietly.

Hikaru felt his cheeks burn with anger and embarrassment, but he lifted his chin and returned the Meijin's gaze directly. "I intend to remain with Akira for as long as he'll have me. I regret that my presence is an inconvenience to you, sir, but whether I stay or go is up to Akira. I'm serious about my commitment to him."

He glanced over at Akira to check the effect of his words and was greeted with an approving smile. _Thankfully._ The last thing he needed was the anger of _two_ Touyas.

Akira's father made a disgruntled, gruff sound and slowly rose to his feet, retreating from the room.

"Is that good or bad?" Hikaru asked in the sudden silence.

His rival shrugged. "Who can say with father? It could be that he's giving up on this battle. But he might just be regrouping."

Hikaru sighed, leaning back on his hands. He could practically see his reflection in the surface of the highly polished table, and it was bothering him. "Greaaat. Something to look forward to."

Akira's mother rose, bowing slightly to him, and he quickly rose to do the same. "I believe that he will eventually come around, Shindou-kun. I have enjoyed spending time with you, and hope to know you better."

"Thank you, Touya-san. I'm sorry if I've caused any problems. I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

Akira stifled an amused noise beside him and he resisted the urge to smack the other boy.

"I'm sure that everything will work out one way or another," she replied. "Do the two of you need anything before I go? I apologize that our family dinner has been cut short. Please make yourselves at home and stay as long as you wish."

"Thank you," he murmured, folding himself back down onto his cushion as she left the room.

Just then, his cell phone rang.

"I thought you would have turned that off," Akira said sternly, giving him a disapproving look.

Hikaru sighed as he wrestled it out of his pocket. "I'm sorry, I forgot!" He almost wished that he had been considerate enough to remember to silence it when he saw who the caller was.

Kota _Again_. How many times did the man have to remain unanswered before he would give it a rest?

Akira was fuming silently as he peered down at the screen. "_Hikaru_. Why is Kota still calling? Have you encouraged him in some fashion?"

"I haven't even _answered_ his calls! Geez. Maybe I _should_ call him back and let him know that I'm definitely, without a doubt, _not interested_."

"Yes, maybe you _should_," the other boy replied coolly, as if Hikaru had deliberately enticed Kota into being obsessive.

He clenched his teeth, annoyed. "Why don't we just go back to my place for a while? I don't feel like hanging out here where your father so recently tried to murder me and I know you must be dying to play Go to your heart's content. Mom won't bother us, so let's go."

"I agree that it _would_ feel less awkward…" Akira agreed reluctantly.

"Fine, let's go. I swear I won't play video games this time, okay?"

* * *

Akira glanced up from contemplating his next move only to see Hikaru staring at him with bright green eyes yet again. There was something of a mischievous light in their depths, warning him that the other boy was considering doing something that would undoubtedly leave him indignant and struggling for words. 

After carefully searching Hikaru's face for any hint as to what his rival might be planning, he returned his attention to the Go-ban. The bleach-banged pro had been giving him looks like that all week, as a matter of fact. He was no closer to understanding them than he had been several days ago.

"You need to focus," he admonished Hikaru as he made his move, sharp and precise as ever.

"I _am_ focusing," Hikaru replied with a smirk.

He pointed at the board in irritation, glaring at his friend. "You call _this_ focusing?"

"No…_this_ is focusing!" the other boy exclaimed, moving suddenly from his side of the Go-ban to tackle Akira to the floor with lightning speed.

"Hik-Hikaru!" he gasped out, struggling to squeeze out from under his attacker. But Hikaru's full weight was on him, and the most he could manage without serious force was a wriggle or two.

Hikaru's bright, beaming face shone down into his, green eyes wide and warm. _The sunlight truly **is** in your eyes. It's that smile that you always used to give me before, the one that I feared you had lost._ He felt relief flood through him, unaware that he had been waiting all along for the return of that precious joy, that luminescence. He had never seen light like this in anyone but Hikaru, who was so aptly named.

He pushed half-heartedly against the other boy's chest. "Hikaru…" _I love you. _

"Whaaaat? I haven't been able to get anywhere near you this whole week. The least you could do is let me kiss you a little." Hikaru shifted slightly.

The movement sent a sparking jolt of heat through his body, and made him realize that he had to find a way to escape this position. He had felt the arousal of the other quite clearly during that shift. Far from being shy or embarrassed, Hikaru was gazing down raptly into his face, only a few inches separating their lips.

"You're really beautiful, Akira," Hikaru said softly, eyes growing contemplative and hooded even as Akira watched. "I've always thought so. I think I wanted you even back when I was 12. You were so perfect to me. You're even more so now."

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was startled when Hikaru leaned even closer. Those green eyes closed completely, and the other boy remained hovering over him, lips barely touching his as they exchanged breath.

"I liked it when _you_ did this," Hikaru breathed into his mouth, the words barely audible.

Akira swallowed back a moan, his body beginning to arch into Hikaru's against his will. He controlled himself with an effort, trying to turn his head away. "No, your mother…"

"Relax, she'll leave us alone. I just want to be close to you." Hikaru gently rocked his hips into Akira's.

"That's more than 'being close'," Akira ground out, breath hissing through his teeth as his jaw clenched briefly on what would have been a gasp.

"I _love_ you, Akira," Hikaru murmured, summer eyes serious. "I want to be as close as we can get."

He _loved_ it when the other boy gazed at him with those solemn eyes. But… "No, Hikaru, not here. Let's go back to my—"

"No!" his lover burst out, expression agitated. "You'll just find an excuse to put me off again."

"Hikaru—" he began sternly. Blond bangs fell into his face as Hikaru suddenly kissed him hard, completely shattering his train of thought. The green-eyed boy's tongue found his, forcefully demanding that he submit with strong, intense strokes.

Akira felt his will leave him in a rush as need and heat swept up and down his body like a fever. His blood was on fire and felt drawn to Hikaru, as if his lover was a magnet and his blood was magnetized.

'_How could I have ignored this for so long?' _ he thought furiously, gasping into the consuming lust of Hikaru's mouth.

Hikaru's hips had begun a slow, regular rhythm, rolling torturously against his over and over again. He turned his head away, breaking their kiss. "S-stop!" he stuttered, trying to sound authoritative.

"Is this like that time I pinned you to the floor at Isumi's place?" Hikaru asked gently, voice low and throaty with passion. "It is _that_ kind of 'stop'?"

"_Nnn_," he replied as the other boy bit down on the side of his neck, moving helplessly against the body pinning his. The urge to tear his lover's clothes off tripped through his mind and his hands. He clearly recalled what it felt like to sink into the tight, drawing heat of Hikaru's body, and he wanted it fiercely.

But they were at Hikaru's…his _mother_…

The thoughts seemed to have lost the imperative feeling they'd had only moments ago. The only thing that he was conscious of was the increasing pressure within him from the response of his own body to the pressure that was bearing down from without.

Hikaru's hips had begun to move more forcefully, pushing him into the floor. Sometime while he was distracted, the other boy's hand had risen to clench in the back of Akira's hair, insanely hot mouth sucking at the flesh of his throat.

"Stop…it…" he gasped out, pushing weakly at Hikaru's ribs.

Hikaru lifted his head. "No," the bleach-banged pro breathed against his lips, taking them again without so much as a by-your-leave from Akira.

He felt fingers invading and undoing the fastenings of his clothing as he lost himself in the deep lock of their mouths, responding to every movement of Hikaru's tongue against his. He couldn't help it. The other boy's touch always undid him absolutely.

Akira felt the motion stop for a moment, and slowly opened his eyes when he felt the fumbling of the other pro's fingers at his wrists and some other foreign sensation that he couldn't identify. "Hmm…?"

Hikaru gave him a devilish grin, returning to his previous activity of undressing Akira.

Akira tried to move his hands from where Hikaru had pressed them to the floor over his head – and couldn't. He glanced up as he felt something pulling against his wrists and saw that the other boy had somehow lashed him to the nearest leg of the bed with a length of thin leather cord.

"Hikaru!" he gasped, shocked and scandalized. He frantically tested the knots for any give or weakness.

"_What?_ You keep trying to get away."

Although he struggled a little, his body felt steeped in desire. That his lover would be so serious about this as to do things this way, here and now…

He felt Hikaru spreading his legs, and realized that he could feel the air on his skin, not to mention the other boy's warm breath. "Hikaru, what are you—"

"You're so difficult, aren't you?" the green-eyed boy whispered into the curve of Akira's hip, pressing wet kisses into the sensitive skin.

He moaned, twisting and jerking against his bonds at the scorching, desperate feeling that was kneading its way through his flesh.

Hikaru chuckled low in his throat, lips drifting to kiss at the junction of Akira's thigh and body. Every now and then his tongue would flicker lightly over the skin there.

Akira jerked violently against his restraints as his body reacted, the breath rushing out of his lungs in a ragged moan.

"Be quiet," Hikaru whispered, taking Akira into his mouth slowly, tongue rasping down the underside of Akira's length as he did so.

He choked on his cry of pleasure, trying to remain silent, but tears were beginning to well in his eyes from frustration and the ache of his desire. "Please…let me…" he begged Hikaru, straining to keep his eyes open and locked on the other boy's face.

The bleach-banged pro lifted his head. "I'm not letting you do _anything_," Hikaru murmured, eyes dark and deep.

Those eyes drew him in and swallowed him. He couldn't resist at all. Akira let his head fall back, unable to continue looking or debating with every muscle in his body tremoring. Was his lover going to bring him to completion like this?

"I _want_ you…" Akira breathed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he worked his wrists against the cord. "Please, Hikaru…" He held his breath as he felt his friend's warmth retreat. The sound of clothing hitting the floor reached his ears after a few moments of listening to the cloth rustle.

The other boy's body covered his again, smoldering skin branding his. "_Ah!_" he gasped out, arching into the heat and torturous friction. He wrapped his legs around Hikaru, just trying to keep him close and feel him more.

"Do you want me?" Hikaru murmured beside his ear, gently nudging Akira's cheek with his nose.

"Too…much…" he managed to force out between labored breaths.

"Never too much," the green-eyed boy assured Akira, fingers lightly stroking over the skin of his bound wrists.

"We…shouldn't," he tried one last time, opening his eyes to meet that brilliant green gaze.

Hikaru's expression was one of utter unconcern as he reached out to drag his backpack closer to their position.

* * *

Hikaru reached into his backpack as he blithely reassured Akira, fingers questing for the item that he always carried with him now. He no longer cared about the possibility that his mother might bother them. He only cared about being embraced as intimately as possible by the boy he loved. 

He was watched by Akira's heated eyes as he found what he had been looking for, drawing the tube of lubricant out of his backpack. He squeezed some onto his fingers and set the tube aside, leaning in to kiss the other boy again as he gently teased and stroked at his entrance.

He was so excited that he thought he would die if it took any longer. But he knew that there was no rushing through the preparations, especially not for Akira's first time. He curbed his impatience and tried to split his attention between kissing and preparing, penetrating the aqua-eyed boy's mouth in just the way he wanted to penetrate his body. Hikaru made the motions with his mouth over and over, noticing the effect it had on Akira. His lover was making soft, desperate noises, hips lifting and begging for his touch – his entry.

He drew back slightly. "Do you want me?" he panted, gaze tracing over the refined yet strong features of the face he loved so dearly.

Those aqua eyes opened just enough to glare at him.

Hikaru smirked, slowing pressing a finger into the resistant heat that he had been stroking against.

Akira's eyes closed suddenly, hips lifting and jaw clenching. Worried, he slowly began to withdraw, but the other boy spread his legs a little wider and moved towards Hikaru the slightest bit, easing the finger deeper into his body.

"Does it hurt?" he whispered.

"Nothing like…wanting you this badly," Akira replied quietly. "_More_."

He slowly withdrew and reached for the lubricant, spreading more over his fingers and preparing his own body to enter Akira's so that he wouldn't have to worry about it when the time came.

Hikaru watched the other boy closely as he resumed touching him, wanting to observe every flicker of emotion and pleasure that chased across the normally reserved and composed face of his rival. He liked _this_ view best of all.

"Don't…stare…" Akira murmured in a thready voice, moving into the slow thrust of Hikaru's fingers and gasping. His lover's breath came even more harshly than it had only a minute ago.

"I'm going to do it," he whispered, gently reaching down to grip Akira's hips and lift them.

The aqua-eyed boy nodded weakly, obviously incapable of answering.

Hikaru had to bite back a moan as he slowly entered Akira, his body screaming with the need to thrust all the way in and never withdraw.

"Qui…et…" Akira taunted, aqua eyes glimmering at him from under dark lashes.

"I'll give _you_ quiet," he murmured breathlessly. Hikaru continued his entry with slightly more speed and force, goaded by his lover's attitude.

His rival cried out softly, head falling back against the floor, but his legs wrapped around Hikaru, suddenly pulling him close forcefully. They gasped together at the sudden and complete immersion.

"Are you okay?" he choked out.

"Yes," Akira gritted out, hips moving impatiently. "I.want.you. _Please!_"

Surprised but happy to oblige, Hikaru began to move, thrusts gradually increasing in speed and force at the unspoken requests of Akira's body. He was well and truly into it, trying to stifle Akira's maddening little cries with deep, distracted kisses, when his mother knocked on the door.

Akira stiffened suddenly, eyes widening, and they stopped kissing for a moment.

"Ignore her," he whispered against the other boy's lips.

"Hikaru, I brought some cookies," his mother's voice called through the locked door.

"_Later_, Mom…" he called over his shoulder, trying not to sound winded. "I'm in the middle of a game." He turned his head back only to see Akira struggling against the leather cord again, trying to escape. "No," he said quietly, rocking his hips suddenly to remind his lover of their positions.

Akira's mouth opened soundlessly, eyes closing, the other boy's back arching and inviting him to enter more deeply. _The hell with Mom. _He began driving into his rival for all he was worth, trapping that denying mouth with his, and swallowed Akira's choking cries of pleasure.

"Are you sure?" his mother called again.

He ignored her, hoping with a fraction of his brain that she didn't try the door and discover that it was locked. He wrapped his arms around Akira's feverish body tightly, moving even more fiercely as everything tightened and seemed to click into place in his body. Nothing had ever felt this good. _Nothing._

"I could bring you two tea, Hikaru," his mother offered.

His rival was boneless but welcoming, hands jerking spasmodically against the cord as they clenched and unclenched constantly. A corner of his mind regretted the restraint, fearing that the other boy's wrists would be rubbed raw, but he had to admit that he loved making love to a prone and helpless Akira, and suspected that the Akira enjoyed it, too.

He felt a pang of regret as he felt his body gathering itself for release, but he sensed that his lover was ready, too, if the tightening of those legs that were wrapped about him was any indication.

Akira's back suddenly arched sharply, body remaining rigid for a moment before thrashing against his. He began to lose control as his rival practically screamed into the safety of his mouth, praying that his mother had gone away. It was possible that she could be hearing…_hearing_…

His thoughts dropped out as he fell to pieces inside of his lover, his perception of everything outside of Akira tearing away and fluttering into nothingness. The spasming and clenching of the other boy's body around his made it impossible to maintain any sort of equilibrium. It was trying to draw him in more deeply, but there was no way that was possible.

He broke their kiss when he came back to himself, slowly collapsing to lie on top of Akira. Neither of them spoke for long minutes, until suddenly the other boy kneed him in the side. "Ouch!" he exclaimed, irritated. "What was _that_ for?"

"That was horrible of you. _Horrible!_ Not only do you tie me up, but you take me on the floor while your mother is asking if we want _cookies_! I can't believe you!"

Hikaru lifted his head to meet Akira's angry eyes. "Don't tell me that you didn't _like_ it. I know better."

"Don't talk to me," the other boy muttered under his breath, looking away. Even though Akira's face was still very flushed, he thought it seemed that his rival was blushing all over again.

"You _liked_ it," he teased, running a finger slowly down his lover's chest.

"Hmph. I'd like tea _better_, at the moment." Akira's tone was slightly sullen and cool.

Hikaru grinned. _You **hate** that you liked it so much!_ He was delighted at the discovery, and fully intended on re-enacting the evening's activities at the earliest opportunity.

He freed Akira's wrists and began cleaning up the area, making everything look innocent and innocuous again.

* * *

Akira glared at Hikaru's back as they walked down the stairs, hoping that the other boy's idea of 'presentable' was vaguely similar to his – although he _doubted_ it. 

He smirked slightly as he thought back on what had happened only minutes ago. He had _loved_ it. Not that he would _ever_ admit as much to Hikaru. He'd never hear the end of the teasing.

He schooled his expression into one of polite blankness as they descended into the living room and turned towards the kitchen. Naturally, Hikaru couldn't resist throwing a sly smile over his shoulder at Akira. Akira narrowed his eyes in response, trying to prevent himself from smiling back.

Shindou-san turned from pouring tea into three cups as they entered the kitchen. "_There_ you boys are. I was worried when you didn't answer." Her concerned eyes skimmed over the two of them, analyzing and assessing with motherly concern.

Hikaru rolled his head in exasperation, finishing the movement by tossing his bangs out of his face. "Moooomm…I _did_ answer you! I said that we were in the middle of a game. I had Akira in _yose_. You almost blew it for me!"

Akira felt his eyes widen as a blush crept across his face. _Yose_ indeed! He turned slightly away, trying to pretend that he was deeply fascinated by pattern of the wallpaper.

"But you didn't say anything when I asked you about tea," she fretted, peering closely at her son.

Akira thought he was going to stop breathing. Did she know, somehow? Had she heard something? Had they not been as quiet as they'd hoped?

Hikaru put a hand on his hip, taking a lecturing stance. "Now, _Mom_. We're _professionals_. We learn very early on how to tune out distractions, and our concentration is fierce and absolute. I'm surprised that I even heard you the first time, but it's probably because I was winning. But then Akira made this _awesome_ move, and I just kind of forgot everything else."

_**Winning?!** You little…!_ He would have to execute his vengeance upon Hikaru later, well away from prying parents. As Akira watched the other boy gesturing and chatting so amicably with his mother, he knew that he would certainly be believing those lines himself if he didn't know any better. Hikaru was amazingly persuasive, and always seemed honest and open, no matter what nonsense he was spouting at the time.

Hikaru had snagged both of their cups, and indicated that Akira should follow him into the living room.

"Thank you, Shindou-san," Akira said formally, bowing deeply to Hikaru's mother. He felt guilty that they were deceiving her, especially since he had so much to thank her for.

He wanted to thank her for always being so kind and welcoming to him. For giving him a comfortable place to come to. But most of all, he wanted to thank her for giving birth to the greatest joy in his life. He settled for bowing again. "Thank you for everything," he repeated softly, meeting her eyes.

"Akira!" Hikaru called impatiently from the living room.

Hikaru's mother returned his gaze with a smile, although she was plainly flustered and uncertain as to what to make of his strange behavior. "You're always welcome, Touya-kun. You know that you're almost like a second son to me. You're certainly much better behaved than my birth son!"

"Yeah, _yeah_," Hikaru replied loudly from the other room.

Akira offered a last smile to her before turning to obey his rival's summons. "I'm _coming_, Hikaru. You're so obnoxious. Can't you simply wait like any other civilized—"

"Your tea is getting cold, come _on_," Hikaru interrupted without apparent concern, offering it to Akira with shining eyes.

He smiled despite himself, taking his cup from the other boy, and sat down on the couch. Hikaru followed suit and they sat there quietly beside each other, listening to the domestic noises of Shindou-san in the kitchen.

Akira slid periodic, surreptitious glances at Hikaru, catching the bleach-banged boy looking at him every time. It didn't seem to perturb or embarrass his friend in the least to be caught staring so openly.

"Akira…" Hikaru began hesitantly, suddenly averting his vivid green eyes.

"Yes?" he replied gently.

"Do you think…will you…" Hikaru set his cup down on the table with a sigh. "What I mean is…will we…stay like this?" The other pro's words finished in a rush, eyes rising again to meet his anxiously.

Akira was startled by the suddenness of the question, as well as its bent. "Ah…" He glanced towards the kitchen to ascertain that Shindou-san was still occupied, then turned to gaze frankly into the other boy's eyes. "As long as _you_ are here…_I_ will always be here," he said with quiet sincerity.

Hikaru smiled, a faint blush rising in his face. "Same here. I want to move forward with _you_, both in Go and in life."

Akira stared into his tea, trying to disguise how moved he was by focusing intensely on the cup in his hands as he took a slow sip. "A-ah," he agreed, fighting the smile that was attempting to curve his lips.

With Hikaru beside him, there was no longer anything for him to be afraid of.


End file.
